THE  LOVE  CHASE 


BY   FELIX    GRENDON 

WILL   HE  COME   BACK? 
A  Play 

NIXOLA   OF  WALL  STREET 
A  Novel 

FREEDOM  IN   THE  WORKSHOP 
A  Study 


THE  LOVE  CHASE 


BY 

FELIX   GRENDON 

Author  of 
'Will  He  Come  Back?",  " Nixola  of  Wall  Street,"  etc. 


BOSTON 
SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1922 

BY  SMALL.  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
(INCORPORATED) 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 

THE  MURRAY   PRINTING  COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 


CONTENTS 

PART      I.     REBELLION!         1 

PART    II.    LOVE  AMONG  THE  OUTLAWS 87 

PART  III.    JANET  ON   HER  OWN .193 

PART   IV.     NEMESIS!        278 

PART     V.    HEARTS  AND  TREASURES.  357 


2135966 


THE  LOVE  CHASE 


"  But  who,  alas!  can  love  and  still  be  wise? " 

LORD  BYRON 

"  The  right  to  rebellion  is  the  right  to  seek  a  higher  rule 
and  not  to  wander  in  mere  lawlessness." 

GEORGE  ELIOT 


PART  I 
REBELLION 

CHAPTER  ONE 


A  young  man  of  twenty-seven,  a  dashing  Count  d'Orsay 
type,  was  sitting  astride  a  chair  in  flat  number  fifteen,  one 
of  the  three-room  flats  in  the  Lorillard  model  tenement 
houses.  He  was  alone  in  the  room  but  evidently  not  in 
the  flat,  for  he  was  directing  animated  remarks  at  one  of 
two  closed  doors  that  flanked  a  projecting  china  cupboard. 

"It's  to  be  a  masked  ball,  Cornelia,"  he  was  saying,  "and 
I'm  going  as  the  head  of  John  the  Baptist." 

Two  feminine  voices,  one  from  behind  the  door,  laughed 
merrily.  Much  pleased,  the  young  man  continued: 

"Or  I  might  go  as  a  Spanish  cavalier.  The  costume  in 
Whistler's  painting  of  'Henry  Irving  as  Philip  II'  would 
suit  me  to  a  T." 

"Claude,  I  know  what  you're  thinking  of,"  returned  a 
well-pitched  voice  behind  the  right  door.  "You're  not 
thinking  of  the  part  of  Philip  II,  but  of  the  part  of  Don 
Juan,  in  which  you  expect  to  be  irresistible." 

"Gee,"  added  kittenish  tones  behind  the  door.  "It'd 
be  a  good  sight  better  if  he  went  as  a  penitent  friar." 

"Leading  you  attired  as  Salome,  I  dare  say." 

"Oh,  no,  J  mean  to  go  as  St.  Cecilia." 

Claude  burst  into  mocking  laughter. 


2  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"You'd  need  seven  and  seventy  veils  for  that  part, 
Mazie,"  he  said. 

When  he  subsided,  the  same  languid,  purring  tones  re- 
plied from  the  left. 

"Say,  Claude,  you  have  got  a  head.    But  so  has  a  pin." 

"Naughty  kitten,  showing  its  claws  in  company!" 

"Lothario!"  cried  Cornelia,  from  the  right.  "No  quar- 
reling before  supper." 

"Oh,  I  need  a  little  excitement  to  give  me  an  appetite," 
said  Claude. 

He  got  up,  walked  around  the  room  several  times  and 
then  stopped  in  front  of  the  left  door. 

"I  wish  you'd  hurry  up,  Mazie." 

"Mary,  I'm  on  my  fourth  step,"  purred  her  voice  in 
reply. 

"I  can  fairly  see  you  dressing." 

Through  Mazie's  door  came  a  coloratura  shriek. 

"In  my  mind's  eye,  that  is,"  added  Claude,  after  a  pause. 

Resuming  his  seat  he  addressed  the  right  door  again. 

"Cornelia,  shall  we  go  to  the  Turk's  or  to  the  Spaniard's?" 

"I'm  sorry,  Lothario,  but  I've  got  a  date  with  'Big 
Burley'  for  tonight." 

"Hutchins  Burley?     Then  have  a  good  time!" 

As  his  skeptical  inflection  belied  his  words,  Cornelia 
asked  for  an  explanation. 

"Hutch  is  in  a  devil  of  a  temper,"  declared  Claude  grimly, 
"because  Rob  covered  him  with  ridicule  at  the  Outlaw 
Club." 

"Leave  it  to  Robert  Lloyd!" 

This  exclamation  from  the  right  door  was  followed  by  a 
peremptory  command  from  the  left. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  3 

"Say,  wait  a  moment — I  can't  hear  you,  Claude — and  I 
can't  find  my  garter." 

Ignoring  Mazie's  cries  of  distress,  Claude  proceeded  to 
explain  to  the  right  door  that  Burley's  temper  had  been 
ruffled  that  afternoon  at  a  meeting  of  the  Outlaws,  a  club 
for  young  radical  and  artistic  people  which  they  all  be- 
longed to,  and  which,  since  the  recent  signing  of  the  armis- 
tice, had  more  than  trebled  its  membership.  Friction  had 
arisen  from  the  contact  of  two  facts:  the  need  of  money 
to  provide  the  club  with  larger  quarters,  and  the  proposal 
to  hold  a  public  masked  ball  as  an  easy  means  of  raising 
the  money. 

Hutchins  Burley,  who  had  organized  the  Outlaws,  spon- 
sored this  proposal,  but  some  of  the  members  opposed  it 
on  the  ground  that,  in  the  existing  state  of  public  opinion, 
a  radical  club  might  get  a  black  eye  from  the  improprieties 
or  the  hooliganism  that  outsiders  could  practice  under  cover 
of  the  masks.  "Big  Burley"  had  flattened  out  most  of 
the  opposition  with  his  usual  steam-rollering  bluster,  the 
Outlaws,  like  more  timid  gentry,  being  victims  of  a  popular 
superstition  that  a  noisy  debater  is  always  in  the  right. 

Leading  the  minority,  Claude  had  moved  the  substitution 
of  a  restricted  costume  ball  for  the  free  and  easy  masquer- 
ade. He  was  ably  seconded  by  his  friend  Robert  Lloyd, 
whose  short  satiric  speech  won  over  many  supporters,  so 
many  that  "Big  Burley"  fairly  swelled  with  the  venom 
of  frustration.  Claude  assured  Cornelia  that,  if  a  narrow 
majority  had  not  finally  declared  itself  in  favor  of  the 
masked  ball,  Burley  would  certainly  have  exploded.  As  it 
was — 


4  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

II 

Further  explanations  were  cut  short  by  the  opening  of  the 
door  on  the  left. 

"Mary,  I'm  on  my  last  step,"  announced  the  occupant, 
standing  on  the  threshold. 

Mazie  Ross  was  taller  and  slenderer  than  her  purring 
tones  foreshadowed.  Her  intimates  knew  that,  in  addition 
to  being  extremely  pretty,  she  was  extremely  bad.  Young 
as  she  was,  her  looks  were  already  enameled  with  cruelty. 
A  long  procession  of  lovers  had  left  her  wholly  incapable 
of  tenderness  or  shame. 

With  the  cadenced  poses  of  a  Ziegfield  "Follies"  girl, 
she  walked  to  Claude's  chair  and  stood  beside  him  invit- 
ingly. He  opened  his  arms  and  drew  her  on  his  lap.  She 
struggled  just  enough  to  put  zest  into  the  embraces  he 
immediately  engaged  her  in. 

"You  haven't  invited  me  yet,"  she  said,  pouting.  "Do 
you  think  I  don't  eat  or  drink?" 

"Goddesses  and  sylphs  live  on  nectar  and  ambrosia,  you 
know." 

"Now  you're  talking,  old  dear.  But  let  me  give  you  a 
tip.  Those  dishes  don't  figure  on  the  menu  of  a  cheap 
Turkish  restaurant  in  the  gas  house  district.  I  do  believe 
you  can  get  them  at  the  Plaza  or  the  Ritz,  though." 

Claude's  reply  to  this  hint  was  to  launch  into  caresses 
so  daring  that  Mazie  took  alarm.  She  was  in  the  habit 
of  giving  much  less  than  she  received,  and  she  had  not  as 
yet  received  very  much  from  Claude.  Therefore  she  wrig- 
gled, with  some  difficulty,  out  of  his  grasp.  Perhaps  she 
also  desired  to  anticipate  the  entrance  of  her  chum.  At 
any  rate,  Cornelia  just  then  opened  the  door  on  the  right. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  5 

III 

"Time  I  came  in,"  she  remarked,  glancing  significantly 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mazie,  looking  the  picture  of  wounded 
innocence.  "Since  Claude  came  back  from  the  firing  line 
in  France— or  was  it  gay  Paree? —  liberty  and  license  look 
alike  to  him.  All  the  same,  my  beamish  boy,  there's  a 
boundary  between  the  two." 

"Boundaries  exist  only  to  be  extended,"  chanted  Claude, 
delighted  with  his  own  audacity. 

"I  don't  know  which  of  you  is  the  more  incorrigible  flirt," 
said  Cornelia,  half  in  reproach. 

"Listen  to  the  pot  calling  the  kettle  black,"  cried  the 
"Follies"  girl.  "Somebody  pass  me  a  whiff  of  brandy  to 
uplift  me." 

"Don't  be  vulgar,  Mazie." 

Mazie's  answer  was  to  tango  to  Cornelia's  cupboard, 
singing  provocatively: 

"I  learnt  more  from  Billy, 

On  the  day  I  stayed  from  school, 

Than  teacher  could  have  taught  me  in  a  week." 

She  would  have  said  and  done  much  more  than  this  to 
annoy  Cornelia.  But  she  remembered  in  time  that  her 
sayings  or  doings  might  offend  Claude  Fontaine  who,  in 
the  words  of  a  fellow  Outlaw,  was  "rich,  but  refined."  She 
never  knowingly  gave  offence  to  any  form  of  wealth  whilst 
there  was  hope  of  exploiting  its  owner  even  on  the  smallest 
scale.  Besides,  she  was  more  than  a  little  afraid  of 
Cornelia. 

After  helping  herself  to  an  undiluted  drink,  she  pranced 
back  to  the  studio  couch  and  flung  herself  upon  it,  face 


6  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

downwards,  with  the  abandon  of  a  Russian  ballet  dancer. 

"Thank  the  Lord  it's  to  be  a  masked  affair,"  she  called 
out  to  the  others.  "What'd  be  the  good  of  a  regular  look- 
and-see  ball?  Nowadays  men  are  that  timid,  you  can't 
have  a  lark  with  them  unless  they  don't  see  what  they're 
doing,  nor  who  they're  doing  it  with." 

"Are  you  throwing  stones  at  me?"  asked  Claude. 

"No,  at  Robert  Lloyd.  What's  he  doing  in  these  diggings, 
anyhow?  Why,  he's  a  regular  pale-face.  If  he's  the  new 
man — you  know  the  kind — the  kind  that  won't  kiss  a  girl 
in  the  dark  without  first  asking  her  permission — then  give 
me  the  old  Nick." 

"Don't  blame  it  all  on  poor  Cato,"  Cornelia  intervened. 

Cornelia  Covert  was  about  thirty,  blonde,  loose-framed 
and  of  medium  height.  Her  rich  golden  hair  sounded  a 
dominant  note  of  which  her  pupils  and  her  eyebrows  were 
overtones.  A  firm,  square  chin  heightened  an  illusion  of 
strength  with  which  her  form  invested  her,  but  which  her 
pale  coloring  and  listless  eye  did  not  support. 

"Claude  sided  with  the  strait-laced  party,  too,"  she  re- 
minded Mazie. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Claude,  flushing  slightly,  "I'm  really 
quite  glad  that  the  minority  lost.  To  tell  the  truth,  what 
I  chiefly  objected  to  was  Hutchins  Burley's  cockiness.  Per- 
sonally I  prefer  a  masked  ball.  I  haven't  got  Robert's 
interest  in  backing  the  radicals  or  keeping  their  reputation 
spotless.  Let's  risk  it,  I  say.  It's  a  case  of  nothing  venture, 
nothing  have,  isn't  it?" 

"So  Robert  was  the  real  leader  of  the  rumpus  all  the 
time,"  said  Cornelia,  sweetly.  "I  thought  so.  Still,  I'm 
free  to  say  that  I  admire  his  courage  in  defying  'Big 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  7 

Burley.'  Especially  when  I  think  how  afraid  of  Hutch  all 
the  Outlaws  are." 

Claude  rose  to  his  full  stature  and  walked  to  the  head  of 
the  couch  where  he  stood,  handsome  and  commanding. 

"Am  I  afraid  of  him?"  he  asked,  amused. 

"Well,  you  generally  agree  with  him,  Lothario." 

He  received  this  jab  with  a  smile.  He  supposed  Cor- 
nelia to  be  speaking  only  of  bodily  fear,  and  as  his  phys- 
ical courage  and  strength  were  unusual,  the  shaft  glanced 
off. 

"I  mean,"  said  Cornelia,  "that,  like  Big  Burley,  you  are 
an  anarchist  at  heart,  only  not  such  a  wicked  one.  You 
work  within  the  law,  he  works  without." 

Claude  was  preparing  a  vigorous  assault  on  any  theory 
that  placed  Burley  and  himself  in  the  same  class,  when  a 
ring  at  the  outer  door  took  the  opportunity  away. 


CHAPTER    TWO 
I 

That  part  of  the  city  of  New  York  which  the  older  charts 
describe  as  Kips  Bay,  now  encompasses  the  East  Thirties, 
Forties,  and  Fifties.  It  is  a  section  of  Manhattan  famous 
in  song  and  story.  Here  in  1635  came  Jacobus  Kip,  the 
learned  Dutch  patroon  and,  with  bricks  brought  from  Hol- 
land, built  a  farmhouse  on  land  where  St.  Gabriel's  Park 
and  an  astonishingly  well-stocked  library  now  flourish. 
Here  Washington  had  another  site  for  his  movable  head- 
quarters while,  on  the  heights  of  Murray  Hill  hard  by,  he 
rallied  his  troops  against  the  redcoats.  Here  in  Artillery 
Park  (at  First  Avenue  and  Forty-fifth  Street),  Nathan 
Hale  was  executed.  And  here  at  Turtle  Bay  (where  the 
East  Forties  now  end)  the  "Quality"  had  a  fashionable 
bathing  beach  in  the  early  eighteen-hundreds. 

Of  these  historic  memories  the  average  Kipsian  is  igno- 
rant, quite  contemptuously  ignorant.  Far  livelier  realities 
occupy  his  thoughts.  In  the  heart  of  modern  Kips  Bay 
there  are  slums,  stables,  hospitals,  asylums,  and  model 
tenement  houses,  five  features  ranged  in  an  ascending  order 
of  precedence  from  the  neighborhood's  point  of  view.  Kips 
Bay  is  keen  on  this  order  of  precedence.  No  lady  of  the 
White  House  giving  her  first  State  Ball  could  well  be 
keener. 

Slums  rank  lowest  in  the  neighborhood's  appraisal  be- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  9 

cause  they  are  the  natural  or  routine  habitat  of  the  human 
species  there.  Stables  go  a  peg  higher,  not  because  they  are 
dirtier,  or  because  artists  frequently  turn  them  into  studios 
but  because  they  serve  as  club  houses  for  professional 
gangsters,  and  because  a  crack  gunman  is  at  once  the  pride 
and  the  terror  of  his  district.  Hospitals  outclass  the  stables 
by  the  same  law  of  human  nature  that  makes  an  extra 
holiday  outclass  a  Sunday.  For  the  hospital  is  a  sort  of 
haven  in  which  the  true-born  Kipsian  expects,  now  and 
then,  to  spend  a  furlough  from  the  ravages  of  alcohol,  from 
undernourishment,  or  merely  from  the  wear  and  tear  of  the 
industrial  machine. 

In  their  turn,  the  hospitals  yield  the  palm  to  the  several 
asylums  which,  adjoining  the  hovels  of  the  destitute,  pro- 
vide the  infirm,  the  defective,  or  the  insane  with  all  the 
comforts  and  luxuries  of  the  rich.  Easily  the  handsomest 
buildings  in  the  neighborhood,  the  asylums  stand  unrivalled 
in  aristocratic  prestige.  And  this  is  not  due  to  a  Kipsian 
gratitude  for  charity,  nor  to  the  growing  artistic  cultivation 
of  the  masses.  It  is  due  to  an  inborn  respect  for  plu- 
tocracy, a  respect  that  persists  in  the  heart  of  every  Kip- 
sian, no  matter  how  loudly  he  may  applaud  the  labor 
agitator  who  assures  him  that  an  asylum  is  at  once  a 
monument  to  the  uneasy  consciences  of  donors  and  a 
sepulchre  for  those  soldiers  of  industry  who  do  not  perish 
in  active  service. 

It  would  be  as  difficult  for  the  Kipsian  to  explain  to 
the  outside  world  why  his  model  tenements  outrank  asy- 
lums as  for  the  outside  world  to  explain  to  the  Kipsian 
why  a  civilian  Secretary  of  the  Navy  can  give  orders  to 
the  uniformed  Admiral  of  the  Fleet.  In  either  case,  the 


10  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

simplest  course  the  perplexed  brain  can  pursue  is  to  accept 
the  facts  on  faith. 

This  is  precisely  what  the  Kipsian  has  done — he  has 
accepted  both  the  civilian  Secretary  and  the  model  tene- 
ments on  faith.  Nevertheless,  the  facts  quite  pass  his 
understanding.  The  model  tenement,  he  has  heard,  was 
built  in  his  midst  for  the  likes  of  himself,  for  toilers  at 
the  border  line  of  pauperism.  It  was  built,  moreover,  to 
accustom  him  to  habits  of  cleanliness  and  thrift.  Unfor- 
tunately, the  rooms  are  too  small  to  hold  his  furniture,  or 
the  furniture  is  too  bulky  to  leave  room  for  cleanliness. 
In  any  case,  the  rents  are  so  high  that  only  the  "aristocrats 
of  labor"  can  afford  to  pay  them,  and  the  "aristocrats  of 
labor"  are  not  so  low  as  to  merge  their  fortunes  with  the 
denizens  of  Kips  Bay. 

Because  their  habits,  their  pocketbooks,  and  their  pride 
are  thus  offended,  native-born  Kipsians  have  unanimously 
fought  shy  of  the  model  tenements.  And  these  evidences 
of  concern  for  the  welfare  of  the  masses  might  have  proven 
a  poor  investment  for  public  benefactors,  had  not  the 
situation  been  saved  by  sundry  artists,  writers,  actors, 
singers,  promoters,  efficiency  engineers,  socialists,  anar- 
chists and  dynamitards  who  promptly  rented  every  avail- 
able apartment  besides  filling  up  a  long  waiting  list  of 
impatient  applicants. 

To  the  simple-minded  natives  of  Kips  Bay,  the  model 
tenementers  stand  clean  beyond  the  bounds  of  everyday 
belief.  Here  are  people  who  plainly  hail  from  comfortable 
homes,  and  yet  voluntarily  set  up  housekeeping  in  the 
slums;  who  neither  work  by  day  nor  sleep  by  night;  who 
flirt  with  riches  and  coquet  with  poverty;  and  who  go  to 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  11 

and  from  their  abodes,  one  day  in  rags,  the  next  in  motor 
cars.  By  such  contradictions  respectable  Kipsians  are 
completely  mystified.  But  having  grown  accustomed  to 
their  mystery,  they  have  ceased  to  hate  it.  They  have 
even  begun  to  pay  it  the  compliment  which  idolatrous 
man  usually  pays  the  unfathomable:  they  worship  it  above 
all  the  things  that  they  can  fathom. 

And  thus  it  has  come  to  pass  that,  within  the  confines 
of  Kips  Bay,  the  model  tenement  lords  it  over  the  asylum 
for  the  insane. 

The  model  tenementers  affect  a  lofty  indifference  to  this 
high  rank;  also  to  the  slum-dwellers  who  confer  it.  They 
affect  an  even  loftier  indifference  to  the  existence  of  the 
newer  model  tenements  in  the  East  End  Avenue  and  John 
Jay  Park  neighborhoods.  When  comparisons  are  instituted 
between  these  more  modern,  more  luxurious  structures  and 
their  own,  the  Lorillarders  smile  superiorly  and  say:  "Let 
Kips  Bay  renegades  with  a  sneaking  preference  for  uptown 
respectability  migrate  to  John  Jay  Park,  or  better  still,  to 
Hell  Gate!  We  want  no  truck  with  them.  The  one  and 
only  Lorillard  speaks  for  itself." 

If  you  probe  further  they  will  ask  you  to  lift  up  your 
eyes  at  night  to  their  electrically  lighted  pagoda  roof  and 
then  tell  them  why  they  should  not  be  content  to  be  "a 
twinkling  model  set  in  a  sea  of  slums."  No.  Impossible 
to  get  them  excited  by  sly  disparagements  or  open  com- 
parisons. 

Impossible,  that  is,  unless  your  comparison  brings  in 
Greenwich  Village.  Dare  to  assert  that  the  model  tene- 
ment district  reminds  you  of  Greenwich  Village  or  the  Latin 
Quarter  of  Paris,  and  you  will  encounter  an  explosion.  You 


12  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

will  learn  to  your  sorrow  that  the  cold  model  tenementer 
is  not  cold  at  all,  that  he  is  a  volcano  covered  with  a  very 
little  snow. 

He  will  bombard  you  with:  "Greenwich  Village  me  eye! 
Liken  us  to  a  fake  Bohemia,  to  a  near-beer  substitute  for 
the  Parisian  Latin  Quarter!  Say,  where  did  you  get  that 
stuff?  We  don't  imitate  the  Latin  Quarter  or  any  other 
foreign  quarter.  We  are  an  American  quarter.  We  are 
the  Kips  Bay  model  tenement  quarter — and  that  is  all 
there  is  to  it." 

He  will  swear  that  the  differences  between  Greenwich 
Village  and  Kips  Bay  are  too  numerous  to  record.  He 
will  challenge  you  to  scour  the  Village  for  a  parallel  to 
the  Kips  Bay  Outlaw  Club  with  its  professional  news-faker 
for  president,  its  one-legged  gunman  for  sergeant-at-arms, 
and  its  purser-of-a-pirate-ship  for  treasurer. 

True,  he  may  admit  a  superficial  resemblance  in  the 
matter  of  devotion  to  art.  But  he  will  point  out  that  the 
artistic  set  in  Greenwich  Village  is  almost  the  whole  village, 
whereas  the  artistic  set  in  the  model  tenements  is  but  a 
small  part  of  Kips  Bay.  He  will  assure  you  that:  "The 
Village  takes  up  Love  for  Love's  Sake  and  Art  for  Art's 
Sake.  We  have  no  use  for  that  kind  of  bunk.  We  take 
up  Art  and  Love  for  the  sake  of  anything  and  everything 
but  Love  and  Art;  for  the  sake  of  politics  or  money,  or 
just  for  the  sake  of  excitement." 

The  way  the  purser-of-the-pirate-ship  expresses  the  dif- 
ference is:  "We  go  in  more  for  powder  than  for  paint." 

By  powder  he  means  gunpowder. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  13 

II 

It  was  in  these  Lorillard  tenements  (named  after  Westing 
Lorillard,  the  well-known  brewer  and  philanthrophist  who 
endowed  them)  that  Cornelia  Covert  and  Mazie  Ross  occu- 
pied apartment  number  fifteen,  (two  bedrooms,  kitchen 
and  bath).  And  it  was  by  a  ring  of  number  fifteen's  bell 
that  Claude  Fontaine  was  cut  short. 

While  Cornelia  went  to  the  door,  Mazie  transformed  the 
kitchen  as  if  by  magic.  She  wafted  a  heap  of  soiled  dishes 
into  a  basin  in  the  cupboard,  deftly  concealed  the  stove 
behind  a  Japanese  screen,  and  then  converted  the  wash- 
tubs  into  a  table  by  covering  them  with  a  pretty  denim 
cloth.  Tubs,  in  a  sitting-room,  offended  her  sense  of  pro- 
priety, even  when  they  were  porcelain  tubs,  as  these  were, 
with  fine  zinc  tops.  But  the  denim  cover  blotted  out 
iniquity,  on  the  principle  that  what  the  eye  can't  see,  the 
heart  don't  grieve!  Fortunately.  For  the  limitations  of 
a  three-room  apartment  left  no  choice  but  to  employ  the 
one  fair-sized  room  in  the  triple  capacity  of  kitchen,  dining- 
room  and  sitting-room. 

Tapping  her  dainty  hands  against  each  other  to  brush, 
away  the  dust,  Mazie  faced  the  newcomer,  a  young  man 
about  Claude's  age. 

"Why,  it's  only  Rob!"  she  exclaimed. 

"By  which  Mazie  means  to  say,  Cato,  that  we  trembled 
for  fear  you  were  Hutchins  Burley." 

"Do  you  expect  him?"  asked  Robert,  turning  to  Cornelia. 

"Burley's  going  to  take  me  to  supper." 

"That  man  foils  me  at  every  turn,"  said  Robert  with 
mock  gravity.  "I  wanted  to  take  you  to  supper  myself. 
Cornelia,  you  have  no  intuition  whatever." 


14  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Well,  how  do  you  do!" 

Cornelia  had  a  whimsical  way  of  using  this  salutation 
as  a  mild  rebuke. 

Mazie,  who  was  perched  on  the  quondam  tubs  so  that 
Claude  could  get  the  full  benefit  of  a  very  shapely  pair 
of  legs,  made  a  grimace  at  Robert  Lloyd. 

"If  that  isn't  the  third  invite  this  evening!  Cornelia, 
you're  a  perfect  pig.  Rob,  pale  face  never  won  fair  lady." 

"Mazie,  your  ignorance  of  human  nature  is  appalling," 
said  Robert.  "What  you  really  ought  to  say  is  that  pale 
faces  never  count  their  chickens  till  they're  hatched." 

"Is  that  so,  Mr.  Cleverdick?  Well,  listen  to  me.  Cor- 
nelia likes  her  men  in  three  dimensions,  not  in  two.  That's 
why  she's  going  out  with  Hutch." 

"Well,  if  Rob  is  two  dimensions,"  said  Claude,  "Hutch 
is  eight  or  ten." 

Robert  joined  in  the  general  laughter;  Mazie's  manner 
was  really  very  friendly  to  him,  although  the  banter 
sounded  spiteful.  Cornelia  now  insisted  that  they  were 
all  to  join  her  and  Burley  at  supper;  and  Robert,  under 
pressure,  consented  to  make  a  fifth. 

Robert  was  by  no  means  as  unprepossessing  as  Mazie's 
brusque  remarks  might  have  led  one  to  infer.  True,  he 
was  not  handsome,  dashing,  and  meteoric  like  Claude  Fon- 
taine. He  was  of  medium  height  and  slender,  with  a  figure 
touched  by  poetry  and  grace.  Women  described  him  as 
"so  nice"  until,  scorched  by  his  flaming  spirit,  they  learnt 
that  ideas,  and  ideas  alone,  could  make  him  incandescent. 

"Lucky  you  left  after  Hutchins  bowled  us  over,"  he 
said  to  Claude.  "The  rest  of  the  meeting  was  dry  as 
dust." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  15 

"I  thought  as  much,"  said  Claude.*  "What  happened?" 

"It  was  voted  to  supplement  the  main  affair  of  the  ball 
with  a  few  side  features." 

"Like  what?" 

"Like  a  raffle,  a  fish  pond,  and — several  other  things  that 
I  fear  I  paid  no  attention  to.  All  I  remember  is  that  I 
was  deputed  to  get  some  one  to  act  as  a  fortune-teller." 

"Cornelia's  the  girl  for  that,"  cried  Mazie.  "She's  a 
regular  clip  at  reading  palms,  men's  palms  especially.  Oh, 
she  can  do  it  slick.  Why,  she  can  give  you  a  worse  char- 
acter than  Chiro." 

"What  luck.  The  fact  is,  Cornelia,  the  committee  had 
you  in  mind.  May  I  count  on  you?  You  shall  be  mistress 
of  a  gypsy  tent." 

"No,  Robert  le  Diable,  a  thousand  times,  no!  Don't 
you  know  my  habits  better  than  to  invite  me  to  a  ball?" 

It  had  pleased  Cornelia  to  "live  in  seclusion"  as  she 
called  it,  for  some  time  past. 

"I  know  you  don't  go  to  dances,  Cornelia.  Neither  do 
I.  But  think  of  the  opportunity  we'll  have  of  talking 
undisturbed  and  finding  out  what  other  dislikes  we  have 
in  common.  While  the  rest  go  on  with  the  dance,  our 
joy  will  be  unconfined." 

"Indeed!  And  in  return  for  your  improving  conversa- 
tion, I'm  to  make  up  characters  for  silly  people  who  never 
had  any?  No,  thank  you.  I  don't  propose  to  spend  half 
an  evening  letting  tiresome  people  bore  me,  and  the  other 
half  watching  the  fine  art  of  dancing  degraded  into  an 
orgy  of  fox-trots  and  jazz  steps." 

Mazie  stuck  her  tongue  out  when  Cornelia  wasn't  looking, 
and  Claude  responded  with  a  sympathetic  wink. 


16  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Don't  be  a  spoil-sport,  Cornelia!"  said  Mazie,  hitting 
the  nail  on  the  head.  "What  is  Rob  to  do?" 

"Yes,  what  is  poor  Robin  to  do,  poor  thing?"  echoed 
Claude. 

Cornelia  plainly  enjoyed  the  sensation  her  blank  refusal 
created.  But  her  elation  subsided  when  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Mazie  and  Claude  in  a  stealthy  interchange  of 
grimaces. 

"Do  nothing,"  she  replied  tartly.  "Or  ask  Mazie.  She'd 
make  a  capital  gypsy  with  her  dark  hair  and  velvet  paws. 
And  she  could  eke  out  her  fortune-telling  with  her  monkey- 
shines." 

"Thanks,  old  girl.  But  I'll  take  Claude's  tip  and  go 
as  Salome,  and  I'll  dance  my  feet  off  just  to  tantalize  you. 
If  the  boys  want  me  to,  I'll  do  the  dance  of  the  seven  veils 
for  them." 

"All  seven?"  asked  Claude,  affecting  an  air  of  seasoned 
rakishness. 

"All  but  the  seventh  will  be  one  too  many  if  Big  Burley 
is  present,"  said  Cornelia. 

"Just  so,  Cornelia,"  said  Claude.  "A  good  reason  for 
you  to  come  and  see  that  Mazie  behaves  herself.  And 
that  Big  Burley  does  likewise.  As  the  Gypsy  Queen  you 
may  be  able  to  keep  him  in  order  by  predicting  dire  dis- 
asters for  him.  For  he's  a  regular  old  screen  villain:  he 
fears  nothing  but  the  fictitious." 

"Lothario,  in  the  present  state  of  my  own  fortunes,  I'm 
not  keen  to  tell  other  people  their  fortunes." 

"Oh,  but  come  anyhow.  If  not  as  a  gypsy,  then  as  a 
ballet  dancer  or  a  columbine.  Or  anything  else  that  takes 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  17 

your  fancy.  We  won't  let  you  stay  at  home,  so  get  that 
out  of  your  head." 

"Silly  boy,"  said  Cornelia,  with  a  prolonged,  musical 
laugh.  "A  ballet  dancer's  dress  calls  for  the  most  cast  iron 
of  corsets.  Do  you  see  me  putting  on  those  abominations? 
No.  Not  even  for  love  of  you,  dear." 

She  was  fond  of  drawing  to  the  attention  of  her  men 
friends  the  fact  that  a  corset  was  an  article  she  rigorously 
abjured. 

"Oh,  the  boys  know  you  never  wear  the  iron  maiden," 
said  Mazie  tartly.  "All  the  Outlaws  know  it  by  heart. 
But  they  won't  treat  you  any  the  worse  for  it,  Corny.  Men 
like  a  girl  to  be  squashy — " 

"Provided  there's  not  too  much  to  squash,"  Claude  thrust 
in. 

"Your  remarks  are  all  highly  illuminating,"  said  Robert 
Lloyd  addressing  the  company.  "But  they  don't  help  me 
out  of  my  box.  Remember,  I  promised  the  committee  to 
get  Cornelia  for  the  gypsy  act." 

"What,  my  frisky  youth,"  exclaimed  Mazie.  "Expect 
Cornelia  to  hide  her  golden  coiffure  under  a  shopworn  wig! 
Guess  again." 

"Mazie's  shot  is  a  good  one,"  said  Robert.  "Cornelia, 
you  can't  refuse  on  no  better  ground  than  that  helping 
us  would  put  you  out  of  countenance." 

"Out  of  hair,"  corrected  Claude. 

"Out  of  spite,"  added  Mazie. 

"Well,"  replied  Cornelia,  reluctantly  yielding  to  this  con- 
centrated fire,  "I  won't  go  myself.  But  I'll  get  you  some 
one  else.  I  have  a  dear  little  girl  in  mind  who  is  as 
charming  as  she  is  original." 


18  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Who  is  this  paragon?"  interrupted  Claude. 

"She's  a  Brooklyn  girl.    Her  name  is  Janet  Barr." 

"Janet  Barr!"  exclaimed  Robert.  "Why,  you  can't  get 
her  to  come  to  an  affair  like  this." 

"Indeed!" 

"Yes.  I  know  her  family  well.  She  lives  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  Puritan  blue  laws  perfumed  with  brimstone  and 
sulphur.  Her  mother — " 

"She'll  come,"  interrupted  Cornelia,  with  supreme  con- 
fidence. "But  Claude  is  bored,  Mazie  is  making  sheep's 
eyes,  and  I'm  hungry — let's  go  to  supper." 

"What  about  Big  Burley,"  protested  Mazie.  "Aren't 
you  going  to  wait  for  him?" 

"No.    But  you  may  if  you  like.    I'm  too  hungry." 

When  Cornelia  saw  a  chance  of  tormenting  some  one,  she 
could  move  with  celerity.  Her  coat  and  hat  were  on  in 
a  twinkling,  and  she  was  ready  to  go  while  Robert  and 
Claude  were  still  fumbling  for  their  hats  and  coats,  and 
Mazie  sat  irresolute  on  the  washtubs. 

"But  really,  Cornelia,  if  somebody  doesn't  wait  for 
Burley—" 

"Bother  Burley!  He  should  have  been  here  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  ago.  If  it'll  quiet  you,  however,  I'll  tack  a 
note  outside  the  door,  telling  him  to  follow  us  to  the  Asia 
Minor  Cafeteria." 

Secretly  gloating  over  the  prospect  of  Burley's  chagrin, 
she  suited  the  action  to  the  word.  While  she  was  writing 
the  note,  Claude  said  to  Robert: 

"I  fear  Big  Burley  will  chalk  up  another  black  mark 
against  you.  He's  your  boss  on  the  Evening  Chronicle, 
isn't  he?" 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  19 

"Yes.  His  word  is  law  there  since  he  wrote  up  the 
Montana  dynamite  trial." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Cornelia.  "He  won't  take  it  out  on 
Robert.  I'll  see  to  that.  He  has  vicious  bursts  of  temper, 
but  he's  not  bad  to  the  core." 

"Cornelia,  every  tiger-tamer  thinks  his  pets  are  full  of 
the  milk  of  human  kindness.  You  must  excuse  a  layman 
for  taking  a  more  cautious  view.  Rob's  bread  and  butter 
depend  on  the  Evening  Chronicle." 

Robert  cut  him  short. 

"Don't  worry,  Claude,"  he  said.  "I've  nothing  to  lose 
but  my  chains,  and  I've  you  and  the  girls  and  a  merry 
evening  to  gain." 

"Good,  Cato,  good!"  cried  Cornelia.  "I  like  your  spirit. 
You  shall  go  with  me.  You,  Claude,  for  being  saucy,  may 
stay  behind  and  tarry  till  your  bonnie  Mazie's  ready.  Or 
you  may  wait  for  Hutchins  Burley  and,  if  possible,  avert 
the  wrath  to  come.  Meet  us  at  the  restaurant,  Mazie." 

With  these  words,  Cornelia  took  Robert  by  the  sleeve 
and  marched  out,  leaving  Claude  staring  blankly  after  her. 

"Upon  my  word!"  said  the  young  man,  as  much  amused 
as  he  was  vexed.  "Look  sharp,  Mazie,  will  you?"  he 
added,  after  a  moment's  pause.  "We  may  yet  catch  up  to 
them,  if  you  don't  put  too  fine  a  point — on  your  com- 
plexion." 


Ill 

But  despatch  was  not  Mazie's  forte.  And  so,  while  she 
was  still  prinking  in  the  bedroom,  and  Claude  was  cooling 
his  heels  in  the  kitchen,  Hutchins  Burley  arrived.  When 


20  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Claude  opened  the  door,  the  hulking  Falstaffian  form  en- 
tered, puffing  and  panting,  overheated  with  liquor  as  well 
as  with  climbing  the  stairs. 

"Haven't  kept  the  old  girl  waiting,  have  I?"  he  gasped, 
between  breaths. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Claude,  evasively.    "She  has  gone  ahead." 

Burley,  who  had  evidently  not  seen  the  note  Cornelia 
had  tacked  on  the  door,  acted  as  if  he  had  not  heard 
Claude's  remarks  either.  He  tramped  to  the  door  of  the 
first  bedroom,  opened  it  unceremoniously  and,  when  he 
found  it  empty,  stalked  noisily  to  the  second. 

"Where  the  devil  is  Cornelia?"  he  demanded,  turning  to 
Mazie. 

"She  was  hungry  and  went  on  to  the  Asia  Minor." 

"Alone?" 

"Well,  Robert  Lloyd  happened  to  be  here.    He  went  too." 

A  sulphurous  explosion  of  oaths  testified  to  "Big  Bur- 
ley's"  feelings.  . 

Hutchins  Burley  was  a  sinister  personage  both  in  news- 
paper and  in  radical  circles.  Among  artists  who  eked  out 
their  scanty  talents  with  alcoholic  inspiration  and  took  a 
serious  view  of  the  Bohemianism  of  the  Lorillard  tene- 
ments, he  cut  a  considerable  figure.  Others  dreaded  or 
avoided  him. 

Curious  conclusions  might  have  been  drawn  from  the 
fact  that,  though  he  hung  out  with  parlor  anarchists  of 
the  Outlaw  type  and  was  reputed  to  be  a  close  friend  of 
real  anarchists  like  Emma  Goldman,  he  was  an  all-impor- 
tant member  of  the  staff  of  the  sham-liberal  Evening 
Chronicle. 

But  no  one  bothered  to  draw  these  conclusions. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  21 

In  truth,  few  people  cared  to  think  long  or  deeply  about 
Hutchins  Burley.  A  great  hulk  of  a  man,  with  a  pitted 
face  and  shifty  eyes,  he  was  a  dreadful  and  repellant  figure, 
yet  one  that  chained  the  attention.  Some  said  offhand  that 
he  knew  more  about  Charles  Edward  Strong,  the  editor  and 
owner  of  the  Evening  Chronicle,  than  was  good  for  either 
of  them.  Others  believed  that  his  influence  had  been  won 
by  the  sensational  hits  he  had  made  in  "covering"  the 
Lawrence  strike  and  other  big  labor  outbreaks. 

One  thing  was  certain.  Newspaper  Row  hated  and  yet 
feared  him;  the  Kips  Bay  model  tenementers  eyed  him 
askance  and  yet  elected  him  to  high  office  in  the  Outlaw 
Club.  A  few  shrewd  observers  troubled  the  placid  waters 
hi  both  camps  by  enquiring  from  time  to  time:  "Can 
Hutchins  Burley  serve  both  Park  Row  and  the  Radicals?" 

Wine  was  not  one  of  Burley 's  weak  points:  he  could 
stand  any  quantity  of  it.  But  women  touched  his  Achilles' 
heel.  On  this  point  he  was  like  Falstaff,  "corrupt,  corrupt, 
and  tainted  in  desire." 

Hence  his  explosion  at  Claude's  news.  The  picture  of 
Cornelia  gallivanting  off  with  Robert  made  his  great  frame 
shake  with  rage. 

"What  does  she  mean  by  going  off  with  that  puppy?" 
he  snarled,  ejecting  the  words  from  the  left  side  of  his 
mouth.  "Don't  she  know  better  than  to  break  an  engage- 
ment without  so  much  as  a  by-your-leave?" 

Mazie  tried  to  coax  him  into  a  good  humor.  But  the 
sweeter  her  advances,  the  blacker  grew  his  passion. 

"Oh,  get  over  it,  Hutch,"  said  Claude  at  last.  "After 
all,  if  you  make  an  appointment  for  seven,  you  can't  expect 
Cornelia  to  wait  until  eight." 


22  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"She'd  have  waited  but  for  that  thundering  young  cad," 
shouted  Burley. 

"Don't  go  on  like  that,  Hutch,"  begged  Mazie  in  a 
panic.  "You  know  he's  Claude's  friend." 

"Oh,  that's  nothing,"  said  Claude  urbanely.  "Names 
won't  hurt  Rob.  If  it  relieves  your  feelings,  Hutch,  swear 
at  me,  too,  from  the  bottom  of  your  heart." 

Claude  had  a  temper  of  his  own.  But  the  chief  instinct 
of  his  social  existence  was  to  stave  off  the  disagreeable — 
except  where  his  own  desires  were  thwarted. 

"Ready,  Mazie?"  he  continued.  "Well,  then,  we  might 
as  well  go.  Calm  down,  Hutch,  and  come  along  with  us." 

"I'll  be  damned  if  I  do.  I  won't  eat  with  a  girl  that 
breaks  an  engagement,  or  prefers  a  snorting,  bouncing, 
snapping  little  cur  to  me.  Just  wait  till  he  comes  snivelling 
along  for  the  next  assignment.  I'll  show  him  what's  what! " 

"Oh,  cool  offl"  exclaimed  Claude,  whose  patience  was 
thoroughly  exhausted. 

For  a  second  it  looked  as  if  Burley  would  hurl  himself 
upon  the  younger  man.  But  as  Claude's  athletic  frame 
seemed  fully  prepared  for  the  contingency,  he  picked  up 
his  hat,  glared  himself  past  Mazie,  and  fumed  his  way 
to  the  door.  He  stopped  at  the  threshold. 

"Just  let  the  beggar  sneak  in  tomorrow!"  he  shouted, 
his  left  jaw  moving  with  a  grotesque,  machine-like  rhythm. 
"I'll  kick  him  into  kingdom  come!" 

Claude  smiled  disdainfully,  turned  his  back  on  Burley, 
and  went  to  comfort  Mazie,  who  was  making  the  most 
of  the  pose  of  Dulcinea  in  distress. 


CHAPTER  THREE 
I 

One  morning  a  letter  addressed  to  Miss  Janet  Barr  was 
delivered  at  a  house  in  the  Park  Slope  section  of  Brooklyn. 
The  writing  was  legible  enough,  but  a  new  and  somewhat 
flustered  servant  placed  the  letter  next  to  Miss  Emily 
Barr's  plate.  This  young  lady,  Janet's  older  sister,  was 
the  first  member  of  the  family  to  reach  the  breakfast  table. 
She  was  one  of  those  well-filled-out  single  women  who 
abound  in  the  better  districts  of  Brooklyn,  and  who  look 
more  matronly  than  a  great  many  married  women,  perhaps 
because  their  figures  have  not  been  pared  down  by  wedlock 
in  middle-class  circumstances. 

Casually  she  picked  up  the  envelope  and  opened  it. 
She  laid  the  enclosure  down  before  she  had  read  very  far, 
took  it  up  again,  laid  it  down  a  second  time,  and  then 
surveyed  it  with  painful  indecision.  Finally  she  rang  for 
the  maid. 

"Laura,  have  you  called  Miss  Janet?" 

"Not  yet,  Miss  Emily.  She  told  me  not  to  call  her  before 
half  past  eight  this  morning.  She  said — " 

"Never  mind.    Don't  call  her  until  I  tell  you  to." 

"Very  well,  ma'am." 

After  the  girl  had  gone,  Emily  took  the  letter  and  went 
upstairs  to  the  back  sitting  room.  She  did  not  allow  the 
turmoil  within  her  to  disturb  her  dignity  or  quicken  her 
pace.  She  found  her  mother  seated  in  a  rocking  chair 


24  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

and  musing  over  a  passage  from  the  Bible  that  lay  open 
on  her  lap. 

"Good  morning,  my  child,"  said  Mrs.  Barr,  as  her 
daughter  entered.  "You  must  have  made  short  work  of 
breakfast.  Are  you  late?" 

"No,  mother,  I've  brought  you  a  letter  I  opened  by 
mistake.  It  is  directed  to  Janet." 

"Oh,  well,  just  lick  it  together  again,"  she  said,  with 
arid  humor,  "and  lay  it  beside  Janet's  plate.  She'll  never 
know  the  difference.  You  know  Janet." 

Mrs.  Barr's  levity  appeared  to  distress  Emily. 

"That's  not  what's  troubling  me,  mother.    I — " 

She  hesitated  and  held  out  the  envelope  with  a  good 
imitation  of  helplessness.  Her  mother  stopped  rocking  and 
looked  in  some  astonishment  from  Emily  to  the  letter. 

Mrs.  Barr  was  a  tall,  well-set  woman,  whose  rigid  bearing 
was  but  little  softened  by  her  refined  surroundings.  She- 
was  neither  thin  nor  fleshy;  there  was  something  solid  and 
conservative  about  her  that  suggested  the  Chinese  wall. 
Solidity  was  her  pronounced  characteristic,  solidity  of  soul 
no  less  than  solidity  of  body.  Her  face  was  hard;  it  was 
full  of  lines  that  looked  like  razor  edges  drawn  in  gall. 

Mrs.  Barr  had  been  beautiful  in  her  youth  and  might 
still  have  been  so  had  she  not  sacrificed  everything — every- 
thing but  her  love  of  comfort — to  a  greed  for  power.  Ex- 
perience had  taught  her  that  a  fit  of  sickness  was  a  right 
royal  prop  to  domestic  tyranny.  Thus  she  had  cultivated 
ill-health  until  nothing  saved  her  from  being  a  professional 
invalid  but  her  naturally  strong  constitution  and  an  in- 
herited playfulness  which  still  occasionally  emerged  between 
long  fits  of  bad  temper. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  25 

She  was  the  president  of  the  King's  Daughters'  Society 
in  a  local  Presbyterian  church,  and,  as  she  was  preparing 
for  a  meeting  that  day,  she  cut  Emily  short. 

"Well,  Emily,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  she  said, 
less  amiably  than  before.  "I'll  explain  it  to  Janet  if  you 
like." 

"You  don't  understand,  mother.  I  not  only  opened  the 
letter,  I  read  part  of  it  before  I  realized  my  mistake." 

"That's  not  a  crime,  dear." 

"No — But  what  I  read  amazed  me.  It  seemed  all  of  a 
piece  with  Janet's  strange  behavior  of  late." 

"Indeed?    Who  is  the  letter  from?" 

Emily  flushed  slightly. 

"Mother,  I  told  you  I  didn't  read  as  far  as  that.  I 
couldn't  help  seeing  the  first  line,  however.  And  that  con- 
firmed the  suspicion  we  have  both  had,  that  Janet  has 
been  falling  under  bad  influences." 

"Emily,  is  some  man  corrupting  her?" 

"It  looks  like  a  woman's  hand  to  me.  What  do  you 
think?" 

Emily  gave  the  letter  to  her  mother,  who  scrutinized 
the  handwriting  for  a  moment. 

"Well,"  she  said  at  length,  "there  can  be  no  harm  in 
your  repeating  to  me  what  you  inadvertently  saw." 

"I  don't  like  to  say  anything  that  may  turn  out  to  Janet's 
disadvantage,"  said  Emily,  with  an  effect  of  reluctance 
that  deceived  even  herself.  "It  will  seem  almost  like  be- 
traying a  confidence." 

"Nonsense,  Emily.  If  evil  threatens  Janet,  it  is  your 
duty  as  a  sister  to  warn  me,  and  my  duty  as  a  mother  to 


26  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

protect  her.  Our  consciences  would  reproach  us  if  we  failed 
in  this." 

"But  Janet  and  I  were  such  good  friends — would  be  still, 
if  she  had  never  met  those  Lorillard  tenement  people." 

Emily  said  this  with  the  bitterness  of  outraged  feelings. 

It  was  in  a  studio  in  one  of  the  model  tenements  in  Kips 
Bay,  three  weeks  before,  that  Janet  had  met  Cornelia  and 
other  people  of  radical  tendencies.  Emily  had  once  enjoyed 
a  monopoly  of  Janet's  heroine  worship.  The  friendship 
between  the  sisters  had  cooled  some  time  ago,  but  Emily 
had  chosen,  rather  arbitrarily,  to  look  upon  the  Lorillard 
incident  as  the  turning  point. 

"I  can  understand  your  feelings,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Barr.  "Their  delicacy  does  you  credit.  But  if  these  people 
you  mention — anarchists  and  Bohemians,  I  think  you  called 
them — are  trying  to  lure  my  Janet  into  wicked  ways,  it 
is  time  for  a  mother  to  interfere." 

In  spite  of  these  words,  she  hesitated  to  read  Janet's 
letter,  open  though  the  envelope  was.  Her  domestic 
tyranny  had  its  humanly  illogical  side,  and  there  were  cer- 
tain rules  of  good  breeding  which  she  observed  as  scrupu- 
lously as  she  imposed  them.  Not  once  since  her  two  girls 
entered  High  School  had  she  opened  their  letters  or  so 
much  as  read  them  by  stealth. 

"You  are  sure  that  it  comes  from  one  of  those  tenement 
persons?"  she  asked,  picking  up  the  letter  again. 

"Oh,  yes.  I'm  sure  I  recognize  the  handwriting.  But, 
mother,  do  you  think  we  ought  to  read  it?" 

This  was  the  very  point  Mrs.  Barr  had  been  mentally 
debating.  Emily's  feeble  protest  had  the  effect  of  stimu- 
lating her  to  a  quick  decision. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  27 

"Nothing  could  be  further  from  my  mind  than  any  wish 
to  pry  into  Janet's  legitimate  private  affairs,"  she  said 
magisterially.  "But  here  is  a  letter  opened  by  mistake. 
From  what  you  read  by  accident  we  may  infer  that  it 
throws  a  light  on  those  recent  actions  of  your  sister's  that 
have  caused  us  all  great  pain.  I  shall  never  let  considera- 
tions of  delicacy  or  etiquette  deter  me  from  an  action 
that  my  conscience  tells  me  is  right." 

A  look  of  sanctified  resignation  passed  over  Emily's  face 
as  her  mother  took  out  the  enclosure  and  read  the  fol- 
lowing: 

Friday  morning. 
Dear  Araminta: 

Have  you  heard  me  speak  of  the  Outlaws?  They  are 
artists  and  writers  who  live  beyond  the  pale  of  convention, 
and  in  an  atmosphere  painful  to  the  wealthy,  purse-proud 
darlings  of  our  nation.  In  order  to  enjoy  their  outlawry 
unmolested,  they  wish  to  produce  club  quarters  from 
which  artistic  elegance  is  by  no  means  to  be  banished. 
Such  quarters  cost  money.  To  raise  the  necessary  funds 
a  masked  ball  will  take  place  two  weeks  from  today,  and 
those  who  come  to  dance  to  the  tunes  must  help  to  pay 
the  piper. 

This  means  that  it  has  been  proposed  to  add  one  or  two 
tributary  features  to  the  main  function.  Remembering  your 
wizardry  at  palm  reading,  I  concluded  that  your  raven  locks 
and  appealing  eyes  would  be  a  perfect  match  for  a  gypsy 
costume,  and  that  a  dear  little  gypsy  who  could  tell  wise 
people  their  virtues  and  foolish  people  their  fortunes  would 
be  a  priceless  asset.  I  know  you  don't  believe  in  palmistry 
any  more  than  I  do,  but  isn't  it  your  very  scepticism  that 
enables  you  to  practice  the  art  with  a  dash  of  diablerie  that 
carries  conviction? 

If  you  won't  accept,  I  may  be  obliged  to  play  the 
gypsy  myself.  Can  you  picture  my  straw-colored  plaits 


28  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

in  such  an  Oriental  role?  But  I  know  your  artistic 
sense  will  not  permit  me  to  do  with  amateurish  bungling 
what  you  can  do  with  professional  skill.  Besides,  two 
peerless  young  gentlemen,  whom  I  could  name  if  I  chose, 
will  pine  away  with  melancholy  if  you  refuse. 

Before  you  answer  "yes"  or  "no,"  come  and  spend 
Wednesday  afternoon  with 

Yours  devotedly, 

Cornelia. 

Mrs.  Barr  turned  the  letter  over  to  Emily,  who  read  it 
while  her  mother  grimly  closed  the  Bible  and  waited. 

"I  thought  as  much!"  cried  the  young  lady,  as  she 
reached  the  signature.  "It's  from  Cornelia  Covert." 

"Who  is  she,  pray?" 

"Don't  you  remember  the  girl  who  created  a  scandal  by 
running  away  with  Percival  Houghton,  the  English  artist?" 

"Who  already  had  a  wife  and  children  in  England?" 

"Yes,  that  was  Cornelia  Covert.  You  may  recall  that  she 
was  one  of  my  school  friends,  when  we  lived  in  McDonough 
Street." 

"Don't  remind  me  of  her  past,"  said  Mrs.  Barr  curtly. 
"Her  present  is  bad  enough.  Ring  for  Laura,  please.  How 
did  Janet  come  to  know  her?  Through  Robert  Lloyd, 
perhaps.  Has  she  been  meeting  him  again,  too?" 

"No.  It  came  about  in  this  way.  Cornelia  left  Mr. 
Houghton  not  long  after  their  elopement.  Or,  more  likely, 
he  left  her.  At  all  events  she  returned  to  New  York. 
She  was  brazen  enough  to  celebrate  the  occasion.  She 
invited  Janet — Janet,  though  I  was  her  classmate — to  a 
big  party  in  the  Lorillard  tenements." 

"If  I  remember  aright,  Janet  asked  you  to  go  with  her?" 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  29 

"Yes.  But  I  declined  as  soon  as  I  heard  that  tenement 
artists,  movie  actors  and  other  queer  people  like  Robert 
Lloyd  were  to  be  present  at  the  affair." 

"The  party  was  given,  so  Janet  assured  me  at  the  time, 
by  some  society  woman." 

"It  was  held  in  Miss  Lucy  Chandler  Duke's  studio.  I 
did  not  know  then  that  the  Chandler  Dukes  were  radicals 
as  well  as  millionaires.  And,  as  Janet  begged  me  very  hard 
not  to  tell  you  the  particulars,  I  kept  the  matter  a  secret." 

Mrs.  Barr  tingled  with  irritation  at  what  she  chose  to 
view  as  Janet's  deceit. 

"She  said  a  great  deal  about  the  Chandler  Dukes!"  she 
exclaimed  bitterly,  "and  nothing  at  all  about  Cornelia 
Covert  or  Robert  Lloyd." 

"I  did  not  think  Janet  would  misuse  the  occasion  to  form 
a  fast  and  furious  friendship  with  a  person  like  Cornelia 
Covert,"  said  Emily,  insidiously  fanning  the  flame. 

"If  she  gave  less  thought  to  the  pomps  and  vanities  of 
the  world,  Emily,  she  could  have  declined,  as  you  did. 
But  you  should  not  have  promoted  her  deceit.  See  what 
comes  from  walking  in  the  ways  of  ungodly  people.  Janet 
hobnobs  with  unbelievers,  you  are  deprived  of  a  sister's 
companionship,  and  I  must  give  up  an  important  meeting 
at  the  church.  That  is  how  the  flesh  and  the  devil  waste 
the  Lord's  time.  I  pray  God  to  help  me  bear  with  the 
weaknesses  of  your  father  and  the  sinfulness  of  his 
daughters." 

Laura,  the  maid,  came  in  just  then  and  was  despatched 
with  an  urgent  summons  for  Miss  Janet. 

Mrs.  Barr's  resources  of  anger  were  so  considerable  that 
when  one  member  of  the  family  displeased  her,  everyone 


30  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

else  received  a  share  of  the  overflow  of  her  wrath.  The 
weaker  the  member  the  more  generous  the  share.  Mr. 
Barr,  by  all  odds  the  weakest  member  of  the  family  of 
which  he  was  the  Biblical  head,  usually  bore  the  brunt  of 
every  domestic  storm. 

But  he  was  in  the  fairly  safe  haven  of  his  own  room 
on  the  top  floor.  In  his  absence  Emily  almost  regretted 
the  part  she  had  just  played.  Being  the  only  available 
victim  for  the  moment,  she  had  to  act  as  lightning  con- 
ductor, much  against  her  will. 

The  maid  had  not  gone  very  far  in  her  quest  of  Janet 
before  that  young  lady  herself  burst  somewhat  incontinently 
into  the  sitting  room.  Her  slender  mobile  body  with  the 
lustrous  black  hair  and  the  gray  eyes  full  of  life  and  intel- 
ligence, made  her  a  striking  contrast  to  her  two  inflexible 
relations. 

"Good  morning,  children,"  she  cried,  without  paying  the 
atmosphere  any  special  attention.  "How's  this  for  the 
role  of  the  early  bird?  Spare  your  praises,  Emily.  It's 
papa's  doing.  He's  getting  up  now.  And  I  suppose  he's 
anxious  to  advertise  the  unearthly  hour." 

The  two  petrified  figures  quite  chilled  her  prattling. 

"Is  anything  the  matter?  You  haven't  swallowed 
a  sour  plum,  Emily,  have  you?"  she  asked,  facing  them 
both. 

"Janet,"  said  Mrs.  Barr,  in  a  tone  that  would  have  frozen 
quicksilver,  "I  wish  to  speak  to  you  for  a  minute." 

"What  have  I  done  now?"  asked  Janet,  sitting  down  and 
looking  speculatively  from  her  mother  to  her  sister. 

"By  mistake  Emily  opened  a  letter  addressed  to  you. 
Laura  had  put  it  beside  her  plate." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  31 

"Is  that  why  you're  so  glum,  Emily?  How  silly.  Don't 
give  the  matter  another  thought,  please." 

Emily  looked  very  uncomfortable. 

"It's  from  Cornelia  Covert,"  she  said,  averting  her  eyes 
from  Janet's,  and  the  mother  added  with  asperity: 

"It  invites  you  to  mingle  with  certain  persons  who  call 
themselves  Outlaws." 

"Really?  You  and  Emily  have  the  advantage  of  me. 
I  haven't  read  the  letter  yet.  May  I?" 

Emily  silently  relinquished  the  missive  and  Janet  calmly 
read  it,  while  the  others  looked  on,  keeping  their  vexation 
warm.  Mrs.  Barr  spoke  as  soon  as  Janet  had  finished. 

"Yes,  I  have  read  the  letter,"  she  declared  with  emphasis. 

"Really,  mother,  you  may  read  all  my  letters  if  you  wish 
to.  But  I  think  I  might  be  allowed  to  see  them  first.  I 
am  twenty-four,  old  enough,  therefore,  to  get  my  correspon- 
dence uncensored." 

"You  are  my  daughter,  Janet,  and  if  you  were  forty-four 
instead  of  twenty-four,  it  would  still  be  my  duty  to  guard 
you  against  evil  influences,  and  to  look  after  your  spiritual 
welfare." 

"I  don't  see  how  your  spiritual  guardianship  affects  my 
legal  right  to  my  own  letters."  She  added  scornfully: 
"Am  I  to  consider  Emily  as  one  of  my  moral  guardians, 
too?" 

Janet  was  not  easily  aroused.  When  she  was,  she  spoke 
in  low  cold  tones  that  irritated  her  listeners  more  than 
the  sharpest  abuse. 

"I  read  the  first  sentence  accidentally — "  began  Emily 
indignantly.  Mrs.  Barr  interrupted  her. 

"You  know  quite  well  that  I  have  made  it  a  rule  not  to 


32  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

interfere  with  your  correspondence,"  she  said,  acridly.  "But 
I  consider  that  what  Emily  saw  by  chance  justified  me  in 
making  this  case  an  exception,  especially  as  you  have  been 
so  diligent  lately  in  wasting  the  Lord's  time." 

This  was  a  pet  phrase  of  Mrs.  Barr's. 

"I  don't  understand  the  charge,"  said  Janet,  like  a 
prisoner  in  the  dock. 

"I  refer  to  your  recent  godless  behavior." 

"Godless!" 

"You  know  quite  well  what  I  mean:  your  flagrant 
absence  from  services,  your  irreverent  remarks  when  a 
religious  topic  is  discussed,  your  readiness  to  put  frivolous 
pleasures  before  church  duties,  and  your  studied  avoidance 
of  all  the  friends  of  the  family." 

"Except   Robert  Lloyd,"   interjected  Emily,   pointedly. 

"Why  drag  in  Robert?"  said  Janet,  flashing  a  look  at 
her  sister.  "You  got  mamma  to  forbid  him  the  house  a 
whole  month  ago." 

"I  had  every  reason  to  believe  Mr.  Lloyd  to  be  an 
atheist,"  said  Mrs.  Barr,  who  thus  concisely  classified  all 
disbelievers  in  revealed  creeds.  "That  is  why  I  requested 
you  not  to  invite  him  here  again." 

"Leaving  me  to  the  edifying  companionship  of  Emily's 
stuffy  pedagogue  friends,"  said  Janet,  in  a  white  heat. 

"We  needn't  pursue  that  matter  now,  Janet.  What  I 
wish  to  say  at  present  is  merely  that  a  masked  ball  is  out 
of  the  question.  A  masked  ball!  What  are  you  thinking 
of,  my  child?  Not  to  say  that  the  invitation  comes  from 
people  who  are  perfectly  impossible." 

"Impossible!"  cried  Janet,  bursting  out  under  terrible 
pressure.  "They're  quite  possible  for  me.  Do  you  expect 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  33 

me  to  chum  up  with  Emily's  high  school  cats,  or  the  old 
maids  from  the  King's  daughters,  or  the  decrepit  old  ladies 
from  your  missionary  club?" 

Her  mother  fairly  reeled  at  the  impudence  of  the  attack. 

This  from  Janet,  of  all  people!  The  girl  had  always 
been  a  mild-tempered  and  tractable  child.  That  is,  she 
had  been  entirely  tractable  except  for  half  a  dozen  fits 
of  rebellion  so  scattered  in  point  of  time  and  so  completely 
suppressed  in  point  of  fact  that  they  could  conveniently  be 
overlooked.  But  a  face-to-face  defiance  of  a  maternal 
decree  was  a  new  and  startling  departure.  It  was  an 
unheard  of  act,  such  as  Mrs.  Barr  could  ascribe  only  to 
the  promptings  of  the  Evil  One,  inducted  into  Janet's 
acquaintance  by  her  Kips  Bay  friends. 

Mrs.  Barr  came  of  an  old  New  England  family  with 
Puritan  traditions  reaching  back  beyond  Cotton  Mather 
and  the  witch  huntings.  It  was  inconceivable  to  her  that 
a  daughter  should  be  allowed  to  address  'a  mother  as  Janet 
had  just  addressed  her.  It  was  inconceivable  to  her  even 
in  the  spring  of  1919,  when  the  civil  war  between  parents 
and  children  (or  rather,  the  uncivil  war  between  the  young 
and  the  old),  though  raging  furiously  in  the  dynamic  cen- 
ters of  New  York,  London,  Paris  and  Berlin,  had  not  pro- 
duced so  much  as  a  ripple  amongst  the  Barrs  of  Brooklyn 
or  the  Barrs  anywhere  in  the  wide  world. 

"That  will  do,  Janet,"  she  said,  rising  to  her  full  stature 
and  assuming  an  expression  that  gave  every  line  of  her 
face  its  crudest  edge.  "Your  language  confirms  my  worst 
fears.  I  shall  say  no  more." 

Janet  wished  that  this  were  true,  but  she  knew  it  was 


34  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

a  mere  euphemism.  And,  indeed,  her  mother  continued 
with  icy  piety: 

"I  shall  pray  that  understanding  may  be  given  you  to 
realize  that  happiness  comes  from  the  spirit,  not  from  the 
flesh,  from  an  exaltation  of  the  heart,  not  from  the  pleasures 
of  dances  and  parties.  As  for  this  Cornelia  Covert,  her 
reputation  is  such  that  you  should  shrink  from  linking  your 
name  with  hers.  A  woman  who  has  lived  in  an  unholy 
alliance  with  a  man  is  no  friend  for  an  innocent  girl." 

"Innocent!  Am  I  more  innocent  than  she  is,  or  simply 
more  ignorant?" 

"Janet!"  remonstrated  Emily,  "how  can  you  speak  in 
this  way — when  our  sole  object  is  to  help  you — " 

"Help  me!  Please  don't  make  me  laugh,  Emily,"  Janet 
cut  in,  bitterly.  "A  little  more  of  this  help  of  yours  and 
mother  will  have  no  difficulty  whatever  in  arguing  me  down 
to  the  ground." 

"I  don't  propose  to  argue  with  you,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Barr,  motioning  to  Emily,  who  flounced  angrily  upstairs. 
"I  simply  say  that  I  don't  approve  of  this  masked  ball. 
One  thing  more.  I  wish  you  to  promise  not  to  go." 

Janet  was  really  terrified  at  her  mother's  icy  tone,  but 
as  her  convictions  were  deeply  involved,  she  replied  with 
obstinate  defiance: 

"I'm  sorry,  but  I  see  no  reason  for  giving  such  a  promise." 

"Very  well,"  said  her  mother,  adding,  with  a  veiled 
menace  in  the  harmless  words:  "Remember,  you  don't  go 
with  my  approval." 

"Then  I'll  go  without,"  muttered  Janet  under  her  breath, 
as  her  mother  majestically  left  the  room. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  35 

III 

Janet  stood  alone,  her  hands  clenched  in  nervous  tension. 
How  passionately  she  resented  her  mother's  domestic  tyr- 
anny! In  the  narrow,  intolerant  religious  atmosphere  of 
Brooklyn,  she  had  endured  it  long  enough,  endured  it  since 
childhood  as  one  of  the  mysterious  dispensations  of  Provi- 
dence. 

Her  mind  was  flooded  with  hatred  of  the  Barrs  and  all 
that  they  stood  for. 

The  Barrs  were  a  characteristic  product  of  the  American 
environment.  Mrs.  Barr  belonged  to  a  decadent  branch 
of  an  old  Mayflower  stock  connected  with  the  Bradleys, 
the  Saltonstalls,  and  other  well-known  New  England  names. 
She  had  married  the  American  born  son  of  a  Scotch  immi- 
grant; but,  as  she  ruled  him  with  a  rod  of  iron,  few  traces 
of  his  gentler  European  parentage  had  slipped  into  the 
household  or  stayed  there  long  if  they  had.  For  Mrs. 
Barr  charged  the  family  atmosphere  to  its  full  capacity  with 
all  the  narrowness,  harshness,  and  spitefulness  of  her  own 
Puritan  inheritance. 

Robert  Lloyd  had  assured  Janet  that  her  family  was  as 
typical  an  American  family  as  could  be  found  east  of  the 
Alleghanies.  Its  Puritan  (or  rather,  Impuritan)  tradition 
was  depressed  still  further  (if  that  were  possible)  by  con- 
tact with  the  low  standard  of  living  introduced  during  a 
century  of  reckless  and  promiscuous  immigration.  Its  lead- 
ing tradition  was  the  enforcement  of  an  absolute  veto  upon 
all  social  experiments,  a  veto  springing  not  from  love  of 
life  or  regard  for  the  community  but  from  hatred  of  life 
and  contempt  for  the  individual. 

It  was  Robert,  too,   (in  their  brief  acquaintance)   who 


36  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

had  pointed  out  that  families  like  the  Barrs  were  to  be 
found  everywhere  in  the  wide  world.  But  it  was  in  back- 
water places  like  Brooklyn  that  they  congregated  densely 
enough  to  work  mischief.  It  was  from  such  points  of  con- 
centration, all  too  numerous  in  America,  that  their  out- 
standing traits  spread  like  an  infectious  miasma  upon  all 
surrounding  efforts  at  progress. 

Janet  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  one  of  these  outstanding 
traits  was  a  devotion  to  the  cult  of  doing  nothing.  Doing 
nothing  with  a  restless  intermittency  and  an  extravagant 
expenditure  of  undirected  force. 

Doing  nothing!  Janet  had  learned  that  this  was  not  the 
same  as  having  nothing  to  do.  It  was  a  religion  of  serried 
"thou  shalt  nots"  applied  with  passionate  rigor  to  all  ad- 
venturous departures  from  the  routine  of  everyday  life. 

Doing  nothing  meant  the  avoidance  of  actions  contrary 
to  custom,  law,  or  the  supposed  requirements  of  comfort. 
As  regards  herself,  it  meant  a  studied  observance  of  re- 
strictions, which  your  own  interpretation  of  law,  or  custom, 
or  abstinent  appetite  (with  a  light  accent  on  the  appetite} 
prescribed  for  you.  As  regards  your  fellow  man,  it  meant 
his  rigid  observance  of  restrictions  which  not  his,  but  your, 
interpretation  of  law,  or  custom,  or  abstinent  appetite  (with 
a  heavy  accent  on  the  abstinent)  prescribed  for  him. 

It  meant  an  aggressive  policy  of  wholesale  and  indis- 
criminate prohibition. 

Janet  had  often  listened,  at  first  unwillingly,  later  recep- 
tively, to  Robert's  elaboration  of  the  idea.  His  views  had 
shaped  themselves  in  some  such  way  as  this. 

The  tradition  in  which  Janet's  childhood  was  moulded 
was  that  baser,  narrower,  lower  class  American  tradition 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  37 

which  has  always  been  at  grips  with  the  heroic  patrician 
spirit  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  It  was  a  tradi- 
tion of  negation,  restriction,  deprivation;  of  deprivation  for 
yourself  within  reasonable  limits,  and  of  deprivation  for 
your  neighbor  within  no  reasonable  limits  at  all.  It  was  a 
tradition  that  rallied  opposition  to  Sunday  newspapers,  Sun- 
day novels,  Sunday  theatres,  and  Sunday  sports,  besides 
minutely  networking  itself  through  a  thousand  insidious 
channels  into  all  sorts  of  social  behavior  every  day  of 
the  week.  It  was  a  tradition,  not  of  the  magnificent  no 
of  self-control  but  of  the  demoralizing  no  of  compulsory 
rectitude. 

In  short,  it  was  the  tradition  from  which  the  successive 
prohibition  movements — beer,  sex,  manners,  and  what  not 
— have  drawn  their  ethical  backing. 

Families  like  the  Barrs  were  the  moral  backbone  of  a 
strong  section  of  American  public  opinion.  Their  preju- 
dices, jealousies  and  pruderies  pitched  the  tone  of  national 
manners,  fixed  the  standard  of  public  taste,  curbed  the 
flight  of  the  country's  artistic  genius,  and  gave  an  American 
the  same  cultural  standing  as  against  a  European  that  a 
citizen  of  Boonville  held  as  against  a  full-fledged  New 
Yorker. 

The  same  causes  erected  an  Anthony  Comstock  into  a 
national  figure  better  known  than  the  President's  cabinet, 
gave  rise  to  episodes  like  that  of  Maxim  Gorky,  and  made 
a  raid  on  the  women  bathers  at  Atlantic  City  a  topic 
of  serious  discussion  throughout  the  country. 

In  Robert's  view,  the  Barrs  of  America  prided  them- 
selves on  the  cast-iron  taboos  they  had  laid  on  all  decent 
and  civilized  manifestations  of  sex.  They  had  eliminated 


38  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

every  natural,  healthy  and  spontaneous  expression  of  the 
sex  instinct  from  American  books,  music,  pictures  and 
daily  intercourse.  This  was  their  first  contribution  to 
Western  culture. 

Their  second  contribution — and  they  frankly  gloried  in 
it,  too — was  that  they  had  morally  sandbagged  all  dissenters 
and  almost  completely  crushed  the  spirit  of  dissent. 

For  they  believed — these  Barrs  of  America  did — that 
force  is  the  only  effective  form  of  moral  propaganda  in 
the  world.  They  believed  this  with  all  the  fanaticism  of 
intolerance  and  stupidity.  Force  and  repression  were  the 
only  two  things  they  did  sincerely  believe  in,  though  they 
would  have  died  sooner  than  acknowledge  this.  Not  theirs 
the  aim  of  replacing  lower  forms  of  enjoyment  by  higher 
ones,  baser  religions  by  nobler  ones.  Theirs  was  the  modest 
if  unavowed  mission  of  improving  on  the  example  of  Jesus 
Christ.  In  a  moment  of  divine  (and  regrettable)  weakness, 
Christ  had  suffered  torture  for  his  enemies.  The  Barrs 
undertook  the  pious  duty  of  counteracting  this  weakness 
by  making  their  enemies  suffer  torture  for  Christ. 

In  this  atmosphere  of  moral  taboos  and  sex  repression, 
Janet  had  grown  up  like  an  alien  spirit  hi  a  foreign  land. 
From  the  very  first  stirrings  of  intelligence,  some  indepen- 
dent strain  in  her  had  set  her  in  antagonism  to  her  environ- 
ment. She  had  not  been  fully  conscious  of  this  antagonism, 
much  less  of  the  issues  involved,  and  she  had  seldom  given 
battle  directly  to  her  mother's  despotism.  But  even  when 
she  had  bowed  her  head  to  the  force  of  argument  or  to  the 
argument  of  force,  her  heart  had  remained  untouched.  She 
had  knuckled  under  time  and  again,  but  her  service  had 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  39 

been  lip  service  and  her  homage  the  homage  only  of  the 
knee. 

It  was  a  situation  she  had  but  dimly  realized  when  she 
first  met  Robert  Lloyd.  His  sensible  views  and  galvanic 
realism  had  startled  her  out  of  her  half-hearted  acceptance 
of  a  decrepit  tradition  and  carried  her  at  one  bound  from 
the  shadowy  Brooklyn  existence  of  the  age  of  Praise- 
God-Barebones  to  the  vivid  actuality  of  the  age  of  the 
airplane.  The  first  novelty  of  contemporary  life  had  been 
overwhelming.  She  felt  as  though  she  had  lost  conscious- 
ness in  the  seventeenth  century  and,  like  the  fabled  princess, 
had  lain  in  a  twilight  sleep  until  Robert  Lloyd  had  awak- 
ened her  to  the  throb  and  stir  of  the  twentieth  century. 

Her  friendship  with  Robert  had  begun  shortly  after  the 
end  of  the  war,  the  great  World  War  from  which  the  Barrs 
had  learnt  as  much  as  a  blind  man  learns  from  a  mirror. 

Chance  had  next  thrown  her  into  the  arms  of  Emily's 
classmate,  Cornelia  Covert.  Cornelia  had  taken  her  in  hand 
and  brought  her  into  the  free  and  easy  atmosphere  of  the 
Lorillard  model  tenements  in  Kips  Bay.  Her  furtive  visits 
to  Cornelia's  flat  had  led  her  by  gradual  stages  into  the 
stress  and  clash  of  the  metropolis  until,  what  with  one  new 
experience  and  another,  she  began  to  distinguish  the  trum- 
pet-tongued  voices  of  her  own  generation  and  to  feel  in  her 
soul  the  resurgent  willfulness  of  the  modern  age. 

IV 

And  now,  here  she  stood,  the  fire  of  life  stirring  her 
blood,  the  long  arm  of  her  mother's  power  fettering  her 
movements.  If  only  she  were  in  Emily's  shoes!  Emily 


40  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

had  been  sent  to  college  and  had  later  achieved  economic 
independence  in  the  profession  of  high  school  teacher. 
But  Emily  had  always  had  an  instinct  for  taking  care  of 
herself.  Janet  wished  she  had  half  her  sister's  practical 
sense,  and  bitterly  reproached  herself  for  having  been  fool 
enough  to  yield  to  her  mother's  hankering  after  gentility. 
It  was  Mrs.  Barr's  belief  that  the  family  prestige  would  fall 
irrecoverably  below  the  rarified  heights  where  the  Cabots 
or  the  Saltonstalls  were  presumed  to  move,  unless  one 
daughter,  at  least,  was  kept  free  from  the  lower  class  stigma 
of  earning  her  own  living. 

Thus,  under  pressure,  Janet  had  stayed  home  to  become 
a  fine  lady,  although  the  limited  circumstances  of  the  Barrs 
obliged  her,  in  effect,  to  become  a  domestic  servant.  For 
a  year  past,  however,  she  had  been  laying  desperate  plans 
for  going  out  on  her  own. 

"Hello,  little  girl,  good  morning!"  interrupted  a  cheery 
voice  at  her  side. 

"Good  morning,  father,"  replied  Janet,  to  a  tall,  well- 
preserved,  stately  man  who  kissed  her  very  affectionately. 

"Your  mother  sent  for  me,  Janet,"  said  Mr.  Barr 
anxiously.  "What's  the  matter?'-' 

"I'm  the  matter.  She  has  been  pitching  into  me  for 
receiving  an  invitation  to  a  masked  ball.  I've  been  wasting 
the  Lord's  time/" 

"Did  she  blow  you  up?" 

"Down,  father,  down.    I  feel  very  small,  I  can  tell  you." 

Janet  was  of  too  cheerful  a  temperament  to  be  sad  very 
long.  She  and  her  father  habitually  exchanged  death-cell 
jests,  and  even  her  present  gloom  was  not  too  thick  to  be 
dispelled  with  a  quip.  Her  father  burst  into  a  loud  and 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  41 

hearty  laugh  which  he  moderated  considerably  on  remem- 
bering that  he  still  had  his  wife  to  face.  His  camel-like 
virtues,  which  had  carried  him  tolerably  far  in  business — 
he  was  manager  of  a  small  branch  of  the  Wheat  Exchange 
Bank — had  not  saved  him  from  being  a  thorough  nincom- 
poop at  home. 

Mr.  Barr  had  the  form  of  a  patrician  but  the  spirit  of 
an  obedient  slave.  Janet  despised  him  for  his  complete 
submission  to  his  wife,  yet  she  had  one  bond  of  sympathy 
with  him.  Though  he  dared  not  raise  hand  or  voice  against 
the  system  of  vetoes  and  taboos  under  which  the  Barr 
family  lived,  he  disliked  the  system  and  understood  her 
hatred  of  it.  Janet  often  wondered  whether  he  was  not  the 
passive  carrier  of  some  rebellious  British  strain  which,  in 
herself,  took  the  shape  of  active  insurgency  against  Mrs. 
Barr's  American  passion  for  denying  the  body  and  mortify- 
ing the  soul. 

"Mother  is  waiting  for  you  upstairs,"  she  said,  trying  to 
feel  sorry  for  him.  "She  means  to  give  you  a  scathing 
address  on  the  moral  failings  of  your  youngest  daughter." 

"I  suppose  I'll  get  a  piece  of  her  mind,  too." 

"Depend  upon  it.  The  same  old  piece  that  passeth 
understanding." 

"Well,  it's  all  in  the  day's  work — it's  family  life,"  said 
the  old  gentleman,  trying  to  keep  up  a  brave  front. 

He  shuffled  off  with  a  rueful  smile. 

Janet  almost  felt  ashamed  of  her  malice  as  she  watched 
his  reluctant  steps  and  pictured  his  terror  of  her  mother. 
His  kindliness  and  good  nature  had  once  endeared  him  to 
her.  But  she  could  not  check  a  growing  contempt  for  his 
weakness  of  character.  It  was  clearer  to  her  every  day 


42  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

that  her  mother's  cruel  bigotry  had  not  been  half  so  fraught 
with  tragic  consequences  as  her  father's  spinelessness  and 
moral  cowardice. 

"Family  life — all  in  the  day's  workl"  she  repeated  to 
herself  with  a  trembling  lip.  "Well,  I  don't  mean  to  have 
a  lifetime  of  days  like  this." 

Then  she  went  upstairs  to  her  own  room  and  wrote 
Cornelia  Covert  a  note  of  acceptance. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 
I 

"There,  isn't  she  sweet?"  said  Cornelia  to  Robert,  as  she 
put  the  last  touch  to  a  pomegranate  sash. 

She  was  referring  to  Janet,  whom  she  had  costumed  with 
all  her  artistic  cunning  as  a  sort  of  gypsy  Carmen.  The 
night  of  the  Outlaws'  ball  was  at  hand;  and  Cornelia's  flat, 
number  fifteen  of  the  Lorillard  model  tenements,  was  the 
rendezvous  for  several  of  the  maskers. 

"Isn't  she  beautiful?"  insisted  Cornelia,  pitching  her 
languid  voice  high.  She  pointed  proudly  to  her  handiwork 
(rather  than  to  its  wearer,  for  she  was  determined  to 
have  it  admired  by  all  who  stood  near. 

"She  is  charming,  and  her  voice  is  beautiful,"  said 
Robert,  in  cool  dispassionate  appraisal. 

"No  one  ever  called  my  voice  beautiful  before!"  said 
Janet,  with  unfeigned  delight,  in  spite  of  the  scientific  de- 
tachment of  Robert's  tone. 

"I  shall  make  you  conscious  of  all  your  attractions,  if 
you'll  give  me  time,"  added  Robert,  with  much  more  fervor 
than  before. 

"Ought  we  to  be  conscious  of  our  attractions?"  asked 
Janet  dubiously,  for  hi  the  Barr  environment  it  was  bad 
form  to  call  attention  to  anything  but  detractions. 

The  immemorial  Barr  practice  bound  members  of  the 
same  family  to  make  the  worst  of  one  another's  good 
qualities. 


44  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Decidedly,"  answered  Robert.  "A  wise  man  should  take 
care  to  know  his  good  points  no  less  than  his  bad  points, 
precisely  as  he  takes  care  to  know  his  assets  as  well  as  his 
liabilities." 

"Yes,  leave  it  to  Cato,"  cried  Cornelia  mockingly.  She 
had  a  nickname  for  each  of  her  friends.  "He'll  tell  you 
all  about  yourself,  until  your  soul  will  cease  to  seem  your 
own.  He'll  beautify  you — " 

"Oh,  if  he  only  will!"  cut  in  Janet,  with  one  of  her  fluent 
graceful  gestures  which  it  was  a  rare  delight  merely  to  see. 
"I  can  stand  no  end  of  that." 

"He'll  beautify  you — morally,  my  dear,"  concluded  Cor- 
nelia. "His  conversation  is  so  improving.  He  re-creates 
people  in  his  own  image.  It's  his  specialty." 

Janet's  fine  gray  eyes  narrowed  to  a  hostile  glance. 

"It's  my  mother's  specialty,  too,"  she  said,  coldly. 

"Now,  look  here — "  cried  Robert,  springing  up  from  his 
chair  in  impetuous  protest. 

He  had  good  reason  to  know  how  unflattering  the  com- 
parison was.  Before  he  had  a  chance  to  say  more,  Cornelia 
hurriedly  interposed. 

"There's  one  important  difference,  Araminta,"  she  said. 
"Your  mother  believes  that  beauty  is  simply  goodness; 
Cato  believes  that  goodness  is  simply  wisdom.  He'll  turn 
you  into  a  likeness  of  Minerva,  with  your  wonderful  raven 
locks  metamorphosed  into  hissing  feminist  serpents." 

The  outer  door  opened  and  Mazie  Ross  burst  in  attired 
as  Salome  and  looking  as  wicked  and  tempting  as  if  she 
were  a  bacchante  straight  from  the  Venusberg. 

"Hello,  hasn't  Carmen  got  her  war  paint  on  yet?"  she 
called  out,  frowning  on  the  group. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  45 

It  was  a  pretty  tableau  she  beheld.  Robert,  with  folded 
arms,  stood  before  the  two  young  women,  posed  for  a  tre- 
mendous vindication.  Cornelia,  kneeling  at  her  charge's 
feet,  was  absorbed  in  a  final  adjustment  of  the  skirt;  Janet, 
with  outstretched  arms,  had  just  wheeled  a  full  circle  in 
response  to  her  friend's  touch.  The  two  women  were  a 
picturesque  pair,  Cornelia's  golden  hair  and  alabaster  skin, 
vitalized  by  the  excitement,  forming  a  vivid  contrast  to 
Janet's  darker  coloring. 

"Please  page  the  olive  complexion  and  the  Castilian 
nose,"  continued  Mazie,  in  a  merciless  illumination  of  the 
favorite's  two  weak  points. 

Janet  certainly  lacked  the  challenging  physical  beauty 
that  makes  men  forget  the  mental  limitations  of  an  Emma 
Hamilton  or  a  Mme.  de  Recamier.  Not  that  she  was  poor 
in  physical  charm.  Far  from  it.  She  was  straight  and 
slender,  with  waving  black  hair,  an  exquisite  complexion, 
and  expressive  gray  eyes.  Hers  was  a  face  that  sobered 
naturally  into  thoughtful  sympathy  and  softened  readily 
into  merriment  or  gentleness.  True,  her  features  lacked  a 
chiseled  perfection,  (if  that  is  perfection).  But  it  was  not 
for  her  body  but  for  her  spirit  that  she  both  craved  and 
inspired  love. 

"Well,  what's  the  big  delay?"  asked  Mazie,  flouncing 
somewhat  impatiently  to  the  covered  washtubs  on  which 
she  perched  herself  in  such  a  way  as  to  advertise  extensively 
her  new  and  pretty  underthings. 

"Cato  is  about  to  exalt  us  to  rare  moral  heights,"  said 
Cornelia,  resuming  her  scrutiny  of  the  costume  of  Carmen. 

"She  thinks  I'm  a  hard-shelled  Puritan,"  said  Robert, 
appealing  to  Mazie  for  support.  "Do  you  agree  with  her?" 


46  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Oh,  give  us  a  cigarette  and  stop  your  spoofing,"  said 
Mazie,  who  had  a  dread  of  high-flown  talk.  "I'm  surprised 
that  Rob's  parson  poses  take  you  in,  Cornelia.  Believe  me, 
he's  just  like  other  men  when  you  get  him  alone  on  a  starry 
night." 

Robert  blushed,  Janet's  two  rows  of  long  lashes  parted 
wider,  and  Cornelia  gave  a  queer  coloratura  laugh.  But 
Mazie's  satisfaction  at  securing  the  spotlight  was  short 
lived;  somehow  or  other,  Janet  speedily  became  the  center 
of  attention  again. 

II 

Other  Lorillarders  bound  for  the  Outlaws'  ball  now  began 
to  pass  in  and  out  of  Cornelia's  flat.  They  were  mostly 
young  men  and  women  who  represented  the  various  social 
strata  found  in  the  Kips  Bay  tenements.  They  brought 
with  them  gayety,  laughter  and  high  spirits,  and  spent 
their  time  circulating  boisterously  through  the  apartment, 
gossiping  on  the  coming  event,  and  comparing  notes  on  the 
glamor  and  glitter  of  costumes  modeled  upon  every  con- 
ceivable suggestion  of  history,  legend  or  myth. 

Janet  was  thrilled  with  the  excitement,  the  infectious 
spirits  and  the  easy  camaraderie.  She  noticed  that  there 
was  no  chaperonage  or  standing  on  ceremony  whatever,  and 
she  was  struck  with  the  entire  absence  of  self-consciousness 
between  the  sexes.  Young  men  and  women  went  in  and 
out  as  they  pleased,  helped  themselves  to  Cornelia's  ice 
box  and  piano  as  fancy  dictated,  and  bantered,  flirted, 
kissed,  or  exchanged  partners  without  stint  or  scruple.  On 
the  face  of  it,  all  concerned  seemed  in  full  accord  with  the 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  47 

scheme  of  "what's  mine  is  yours,  and  what's  yours  is 
everybody's." 

Nor  could  she  help  contrasting  these  cheerful  faces,  this 
genial  abandon,  this  entire  lifting  of  social  constraint,  with 
the  gloomy  looks,  circumscribed  permissions,  and  moral 
strait-jacketings  of  her  Brooklyn  home.  With  all  their 
faults,  Cornelia  Covert  and  Mazie  Ross  appeared  to  sug- 
gest happiness  and  freedom  as  much  as  Mrs.  Barr  and 
Emily  suggested  gloom  and  repression.  And  the  model 
tenements  lost  nothing  in  the  comparison  by  having  all 
the  attraction  of  novelty.  If  at  that  minute,  Janet  had  had 
to  choose  between  a  Paradise  of  Barrs  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  flesh,  the  devil  and  the  model  tenements  on  the 
other,  it  is  not  to  the  Paradise  of  Barrs  that  she  would 
have  given  the  palm. 

While  Janet  met  Cornelia's  friends  in  turn,  and  gave  the 
men  amongst  them  a  new  sensation  on  account  of  her 
artless  candor,  Mazie  coquetted  freely  with  the  successive 
males  that  fluttered  around  her  and  displayed  unlimited 
skill  in  extricating  herself  from  sundry  intemperate  ad- 
vances. Growing  tired  of  this  sport,  she  pushed  her  last 
admirer  brutally  off  the  tubs  and  said: 

"Cornelia,  what's  the  matter  with  Claude?  He  should 
have  shown  up  ages  ago." 

"Oh,  Lothario  rang  me  up  about  half  past  eight,"  said 
Cornelia  sweetly.  "He  isn't  coming." 

"Isn't  coming!  Why,  he  promised  to  be  my  escort," 
Mazie  cried  out  in  a  harsh  strident  voice. 

Mazie's  voice  was  not  her  strong  point.  Whenever  she 
opened  her  pretty  mouth,  she  shattered  many  illusions. 

"Oh,  he's  going  to  the  ball.     But  he  has  changed  his 


48  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

mind  about  coming  here  first.  I  suppose  he  doesn't  want 
any  of  you  to  know  him  by  his  costume." 

Mazie's  irritation  was  unbounded. 

"None  of  our  crowd  are  keeping  each  other  in  the  dark," 
she  said.  "What's  struck  him?  There'll  be  plenty  of 
strangers  to  play  the  devil  with.  If  Claude  has  backed 
out,  who's  to  take  us,  old  girl?" 

"Well,  Robert's  here." 

"Robert!  He  can't  keep  Hutchins  Burley  from  perse- 
cuting me." 

"Or  you  from  persecuting  Hutchins  Burley." 

"Don't  be  nasty,  Cornelia,"  said  Mazie,  jumping  angrily 
down.  "You  take  the  cinnamon  bun,  anyway.  Why  didn't 
you  pipe  up  sooner  with  the  news  that  Claude  had  rung  up?" 

"I  quite  forgot  to,"  said  her  friend,  calmly. 

"Forgot  to!"  said  Mazie,  not  concealing  either  her  in- 
credulity or  her  vexation.  "A  fat  lot  you  did.  It's  your 
spite.  Your  refusing  to  come  to  the  ball  is  spite,  too.  Just 
spite.  I  suppose  you  think  that  since  you  can't  have 
Claude,  nobody  else  shall  have  him,  either." 

"I  don't  think  about  Lothario  at  all,"  said  Cornelia, 
demurely  placid,  as  she  could  afford  to  be  in  view  of  the 
infuriated  state  in  which  Mazie  burst  from  the  room. 

The  silence  which  had  fallen  on  the  scene  during  this 
conflict  was  soon  broken,  and  gayety  was  gradually  re- 
stored. 

"Who  is  Lothario?"  asked  Janet,  recovering  her  spirits 
more  slowly  than  the  others. 

"That's  Claude  Fontaine,  the  son  of  Fontaine  the  jeweler. 
You  know  Fontaine's,  the  big  jewelry  and  art  establishment 
on  Fifth  Avenue?" 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  49 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Well,  he's  that  Fontaine.  Very  good  looking  as  well 
as  very  rich.  All  the  Lorillard  girls  are  dippy  about  him. 
So  am  I.  And  so  will  you  be." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  asked  Janet,  hopefully,  for  she  was 
thirsting  for  any  new  experience. 

"I'm  sure  of  it.  But  I  hope  you  won't  dream  of  marrying 
Lothario.  Chiefly  for  the  reason  that  it  would  be  useless. 
He  comes  here  too  well  armed  and  well  seasoned  against 
matrimonial  schemes." 

She  added  that,  in  spite  of  this  obvious  fact,  nearly  all 
the  Lorillard  girls  of  the  Outlaw  brand  had  their  caps  set 
at  the  young  millionaire. 

"On  principle,  they're  all  opposed  to  marriage,"  she  pro- 
ceeded. "But  they're  all  ready  to  sacrifice  this  principle 
in  such  a  very  profitable  cause." 

This  bitter  remark  was  the  first  hint  Janet  received  of 
a  cleavage  between  Cornelia's  theories  and  the  theories 
or  practices  of  the  other  model  tenementers. 

"And  Mazie  wants  to  marry  him,  too?"  she  asked. 

"Marry  him? — Well,  get  him,"  answered  Cornelia  lan- 
guidly. "Mazie  has  the  mating  instincts  of  a  pussy  cat 
and  the  brains  of  a  pigeon.  Hello,  where's  Robert?"  she 
added,  missing  him.  "He  slips  away  the  moment  one's 
eyes  are  taken  off  him." 

As  if  in  answer  to  her  call,  Robert  came  back,  bringing 
Mazie  in  tow.  Shortly  after  her  wrathful  exit,  he  had 
unobtrusively  gone  out  to  smooth  down  her  ruffled  feelings. 
An  explosion  of  Mazie's  temper  was  like  the  backfire  of  a 
motor  car;  there  was  a  loud  report  and  much  smoke,  but 
no  damage  done  or  permanent  hard  feeling  caused — at 


SO  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

least,  not  to  herself.  Thus,  a  good  dose  of  flattery,  which 
Robert  skillfully  administered,  had  set  her  going  equably 
again;  for,  besides  being  dependent  on  Cornelia,  Mazie 
was  too  much  occupied  with  the  satisfaction  of  her  desires 
to  prolong  a  quarrel  in  support  of  her  rights. 

A  symphony  of  cooings  re-established  peace  and  good 
will  amongst  the  three  young  ladies;  and  these  dulcet 
sounds  blended  easily  with  the  mirth  of  the  other  mas- 
queraders  in  the  flat.  In  an  access  of  joy,  Mazie  took 
Janet  romping  through  the  rooms.  Robert  used  this  occa- 
sion to  whisper  in  Cornelia's  ear: 

"I  satisfied  Mazie  that  you  weren't  staying  home  to 
meet  Claude,  by  convincing  her  that  you  had  an  engage- 
ment with  me,"  he  said. 

"Have  I?"  She  tried  to  hide  her  pleasure,  immense  as 
it  was. 

"I  hope  so,"  he  replied,  using  far  less  tact  with  her  than 
he  had  with  Mazie.  "These  entertainments  don't  interest 
me  at  all.  And,  as  I'm  pledged  to  bring  the  girls  home, 
it  will  be  much  more  fun  to  spend  the  interval  chatting 
with  you  than  being  bored  at  the  ball." 

Cornelia's  face  fell.  With  admirable  self-control  she 
said  she  meant  to  stay  up  for  the  girls,  and  would  be  glad 
of  his  company,  though  he  might  feel  free  to  change  his 
mind  if  he  chose. 

Janet  now  detached  herself  from  Mazie,  put  her  arm 
through  Robert's,  and  begged  him  to  hasten  and  join  the 
merry-makers  who  were  already  filing  out.  This  was  her 
first  ball,  anticipation  had  cast  a  glamor  over  everything 
that  was  or  was  to  be,  and  excitement  had  set  all  her 
nerves  a  tingle. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  51 

There  was  a  last  concerted  effort  to  dissuade  Cornelia 
from  remaining  alone.  It  was  unsuccessful. 

Then  Janet  drew  Robert  through  the  doorway  and,  as 
she  joined  the  procession  of  celebrants,  her  heightened 
senses  quite  transfigured  her.  This  fact  was  not  lost  on 
Cornelia  or  Mazie. 

"What  a  pretty  pair!"  said  the  latter  mockingly.  "Just 
watch  them  doing  that  snappy  stuff  with  the  eyes." 

Mazie  had  stayed  behind  for  a  moment  to  give  Cornelia 
a  parting  shot. 

"You'd  better  change  your  mind,  Corny.  A  swell  chance 
there  is  of  Robert  coming  back  here  now  that  Janet's  got 
him  hooked.  Come  along,  dearie,  do.  See  here,  I'll  give 
you  a  tip.  You  can  rile  a  good  many  more  people  by 
going  to  the  ball  than  you  can  by  staying  here." 

Cornelia  shook  her  head  disdainfully  at  this  satire  on 
her  motives.  Yet  disdain  was  not  her  strongest  emotion, 
Mazie's  shaft  having  struck  too  deep  for  an  answer. 

in 

Towards  midnight,  the  Outlaws'  Ball  in  the  old  Murray 
Hill  Lyceum  on  34th  Street  had  almost  hit  its  stride.  Two 
bands,  an  Hawaiian  Jazz  and  the  Kips  Bay  Roughnecks, 
furnished  the  music,  and  what  with  the  crash  and  blare 
of  instruments,  the  dazzle  of  costumes,  the  clouds  of  con- 
fetti, and  the  swirl  of  dancers,  masked  and  unmasked,  the 
dense  motley  crowd  appeared  to  be  squeezing  the  last  ounce 
of  pleasure  out  of  its  mad  adventure  in  search  of  "a  good 
time." 

Janet's  appearance  in  her  Spanish  robes  with  the  genu- 
ine Castilian  mantilla,  the  high  tortoise  shell  comb,  and 


52  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

the  silk  Andalusian  shawl  flaming  brilliantly  against  her 
dark  hair,  was  one  of  the  sensations  of  the  evening.  Robert's 
somber  monk's  cowl  at  her  side  subtracted  nothing  from 
this  sensation.  He  conducted  her  through  the  mazes  of  the 
upper  dancing  floor  and  then  brought  her  back  to  the  gor- 
geous gypsy  tent  that  had  been  set  up  on  the  floor  below. 

There  she  began  to  play  the  gypsy  fortune  teller  with 
as  much  subtlety  as  the  professional  exertions  of  the  musi- 
cal Roughnecks  permitted. 

Robert  stood  near  the  tent  as  a  sort  of  self-constituted 
watchman  and  bodyguard  extraordinary.  As  John  Barley- 
corn was  being  liberally  dispensed  in  the  refreshment  room, 
a  number  of  tipsy  masqueraders  soon  turned  up,  and  some 
of  these  roistered  into  Janet's  tent  despite  Robert's  efforts 
to  fend  them  off. 

Hutchins  Burley  was  among  those  who  presently  appeared 
on  the  scene.  It  was  after  Mazie  Ross  had  repeatedly 
toyed  with  his  erotic  instincts  and  incited  his  hot  pursuit 
only  to  defeat  him  at  a  point  just  short  of  possession.  In 
a  fury  of  frustration,  he  had  descended  to  the  first  floor 
to  inflame  his  passions  further  at  the  public  bar.  Thus 
inspirited,  he  propelled  his  Falstaffian  proportions  into  the 
gypsy  tent  and  requested  Janet  to  read  his  palm. 

His  breath  alone  would  have  decided  Janet  to  refuse. 
But  when  he  interrupted  her  first  sentence  by  tearing  off 
her  mask  and  importuning  a  closer  acquaintance  with  the 
face  behind  it,  she  pushed  abruptly  past  him  and,  running 
outside  the  tent,  waited  for  him  to  leave  it. 

With  surprising  alacrity  Hutchins  Burley  bundled  after 
her. 

"You're  a  lively  little  kipper,"  he  shouted,  filled  with 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  S3 

liquor  and  desire.  And  he  wildly  reached  out  one  arm  to 
clasp  her  around  the  waist.  But  Janet,  uttering  a  low  cry, 
dodged  and  slipped  past  him,  while  Hurley's  flopping  arms 
were  caught  firmly  by  two  men  who  had  sprung  forward 
for  this  purpose. 

One  of  these  was  Robert.  The  other  was  a  tall,  unob- 
trusive man  who  had  quietly  but  deftly  detached  himself 
from  the  throng. 

The  attention  of  several  people  had  been  arrested  by 
Janet's  cry  and  flight,  and  these  now  pressed  forward  to 
learn  what  the  trouble  was.  A  confusion  of  queries,  blus- 
terings  and  exclamations  followed,  during  which  the  Rough- 
necks struck  up  the  "Nobody  Home"  rag. 

Hutchins  Burley  had  recovered  some  of  his  wits  under 
the  compulsion  of  several  menacing  faces  around  him.  See- 
ing him  become  tractable,  Robert  contemptuously  flung  off 
the  arm  he  held  and  walked  away  towards  Janet.  Burley 
followed  his  receding  steps  with  a  malevolent  glare,  and 
then  turned  savagely  on  the  tall  quiet  stranger  who  was 
still  holding  his  other  arm  in  a  grip  of  steel. 

"Leggo  my  arm,"  he  bellowed. 

"A  word  in  your  ear,  Mr.  Burley,"  said  the  quiet  one, 
relaxing  his  grip.  "Plain  clothes  men  are  in  the  crowd. 
If  you  kick  up  a  shindy,  you'll  be  giving  them  what  they're 
looking  for." 

"And  who  the  devil  are  you?"  sputtered  Burley,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  is  not  to  be  easily  frightened. 

"Oh,  nobody  in  particular,"  said  the  quiet  man  in  a  low 
voice.  And,  before  he  could  be  questioned  further,  he  had 
melted  unobtrusively  into  the  crowd. 


54  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

IV 

A  little  later,  Robert  led  three  jovial  young  maskers  into 
the  gypsy  tent.  The  foremost  was  dressed  as  Charles  Sur- 
face and  had  quite  enough  gay  confidence  to  do  justice  to 
the  part. 

"So  here's  the  Outlaws'  piece  of  resistance,"  he  called 
out  merrily.  "We'll  see  whether  she  can  do  half  as  much 
justice  to  my  palm  as  to  her  lovely  gypsy  shawl." 

He  sat  down  at  Janet's  little  table  and  held  out  his  hand. 
She  took  it,  examined  it  gravely  for  some  seconds,  and  then, 
in  her  fine  clarinet  tones  she  reported  swiftly,  without  a 
pause,  and  getting  almost  breathless  towards  the  end: 

"You  are  handsome,  graceful,  false  and  cruel.  You've 
been  a  good  soldier,  but  you'll  become  a  poor  poet.  I  see 
you  divided  into  three  parts:  part  one — Charles  Surface; 
part  two — Joseph  Surface;  part  three — Sir  Peter  Teazle. 
What  a  pity  your  name  isn't  Henry  I  For  you  are  as  dash- 
ing as  Henry  the  Fifth,  as  amorous  as  Henry  of  Navarre, 
and  as  kind  to  women  as  Henry  the  Eighth.  You  will  be 
married  twice,  but  how  many  hearts  you  will  break  I  dare 
not  reveal.  Your  own  heart  is  a  safe  deposit  vault,  fire- 
proof and  loveproof  both.  Hapless  and  witless  damsels 
without  number  will  try  to  blow  it  up  or  melt  it — without 
success.  One  girl  alone  will  refrain  from  the  attempt, 
realizing  the  utter  uselessness  of  piercing  this  too,  too  solid 
flesh—" 

"Here,"  cried  the  young  man,  drawing  away  his  hand, 
the  laughter  and  jibing  endorsements  with  which  his  com- 
rades greeted  the  several  revelations,  proving  too  much 
for  him.  "I  don't  call  this  a  fortune:  I  call  it  a  raw 
deal." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  55 

"No  use  abusing  the  cards,"  said  Janet,  still  affecting  the 
utmost  gravity.  "The  cards  never  lie." 

"Oh,  don't  they,  Miss  Gypsy?  That's  where  your  pro- 
fessional prejudice  blinds  you.  Take  your  discovery  that 
I'm  a  poor  poet,  for  instance.  Well,  the  fact  is,  I'm  no 
poet  at  all.  I  never  so  much  as  wrote  a  couplet  to  a  girl 
in  all  my  life." 

"I  said:  you  will  become  a  poet,"  remarked  Janet,  gently 
correcting  him. 

"And  when  will  that  be,  pray?" 

Janet  hastily  cut  the  cards  anew,  dealt  out  five  cards, 
and  held  out  the  Queen  of  Spades  to  the  onlookers. 

"When  a  dark  lady  enters  your  life,"  she  said. 

"A  dark  lady  has  entered  my  life,"  he  said,  his  voice 
vibrating  seductively.  "Entered  it  with  a  very  poor  opinion 
of  me,  it  seems.  But  I  shouldn't  call  her  the  Queen  of 
Spades.  I  should  call  her  Janet,  the  Queen  of  Clubs." 

"Clubs,  because  I  scored  so  many  good  hits?" 

"No,  because  a  Queen  of  Spades  must  have  lustrous 
black  eyes,  and  yours  are  heavenly  gray.  Come,  let's 
unmask,  and  see  who's  the  better  fortune  teller  of  the  two." 

Claude  pulled  off  his  mask  and  stood,  handsome  and 
challenging,  waiting  for  her  to  follow  suit. 

He  was  very  good  to  look  upon.  Handsome,  graceful 
and  proud,  there  was  just  enough  disdain  in  his  perfect 
manner  to  make  every  woman  adore  him  and  long  to 
enslave  his  flawless  form.  He  had  wonderful  blue  eyes, 
a  delicate  mouth,  a  fine  nose  and  a  penetrating  sympathetic 
voice.  Great  ease,  great  daring  and  great  energy  of  animal 
passion  gave  him  a  hundred  opportunities  to  show  his  fine 
points  to  excellent  advantage.  To  qualities  that  almost 


56  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

made  riches  superfluous,  riches  were  added.  No  wonder 
he  seemed  to  be  a  darling  of  the  gods. 

Janet's  pulse  was  distinctly  quickened  by  the  telling 
exterior  of  this  dazzling  young  man.  And  when  she  un- 
fastened her  domino  and  met  his  glance  with  her  fearless 
gray  eyes,  his  thrilling  moment  came.  He  was  not  greatly 
impressed  with  her  looks,  his  social  training  having  biased 
him  towards  more  fashionable  types  of  beauty.  Yet  a 
magnetic  ecstacy  set  him  on  fire  and  sent  rapturous  mes- 
sages throbbing  along  his  nerves. 

It  was  an  enthralling  moment,  one  that  seemed  mysteri- 
ously to  link  up  his  being  with  other  blissful  moments  in 
previous  existences.  Strange!  Each  tune  that  he  experi- 
enced this  emotion  anew,  he  was  sure  it  was  unique,  sure 
it  was  not  in  this  life  that  he  had  experienced  it  before. 
Stranger  still,  though  it  was  as  deep  as  the  full  flooded 
river  of  life  itself,  it  was  as  transitory  as  an  electric  spark 
or  a  flash  of  lightning.  The  moment  was  poignant,  intoxi- 
cating, miraculous;  yet  by  no  fraction  of  an  instant  could 
it  be  prolonged. 

Indeed,  within  a  second  or  two,  Claude  and  Janet  were 
chatting  about  a  good  many  matters  which  did  not  bear 
in  the  remotest  way  upon  this  magnetizing  spark.  Still, 
they  chatted  with  an  excited  recklessness,  and  as  if  their 
essences  were  held  together  by  a  subtle  force,  a  force  whose 
irresistible  urgency  they  would  neither  have  dared  to  ac- 
knowledge nor  wished  to  dispute. 

V 

Steeped  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  moment,  Janet  hardly 
noticed  that  Robert  had  tacitly  resigned  his  watchful  care 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  57 

of  her  to  Claude  Fontaine.  She  began  to  neglect  her  for- 
tune telling  duties  as  one  result  of  this  displacement,  for 
Claude's  appropriation  of  her  time  grew  as  his  visits  became 
more  frequent.  Nor  did  he  share  her  compunction  on  this 
score.  Far  from  doing  so,  he  cajoled  her  into  dancing  with 
him  again  and  again.  In  the  intervals,  he  escorted  her 
from  one  end  of  the  reception  floor  to  the  other,  introducing 
her  to  the  groups  he  considered  worth  while.  Thus  she 
shared  (much  more  fully  than  she  desired  to)  the  curiosity 
which  his  brilliant  presence  excited  and  the  gossip  which 
it  was  everywhere  a  signal  for. 

"Here's  an  interesting  stunt,"  said  Claude  to  his  partner. 

He  indicated  a  group  of  young  people  amongst  whom 
she  instantly  recognized  Robert  and  Mazie.  Two  others 
claimed  her  attention.  In  the  center  of  the  group  was  a 
young  woman  with  a  high  color  and  a  very  energetic  man- 
ner, who  had  adopted  an  unusual  plan  for  swelling  the  box 
office  receipts.  She  was  making  impromptu  busts  in  putty 
of  all  who  could  afford  a  contribution,  no  reasonable  sum 
being  refused. 

When  Claude  and  Janet  came  up,  the  sculptress  had  just 
finished  modelling  a  head  of  Robert;  and  a  remarkably 
spirited  likeness  it  was.  Robert  was  greatly  taken  with 
it,  but  his  satisfaction  was  mild  beside  that  of  the  artist, 
who  handled  the  fragile  image  as  though  it  were  the  apple 
of  her  eye. 

Two  thoughts  struck  Janet.  One  was  that  Charlotte 
Beecher's  fuss  over  the  statuette  of  Robert  Lloyd  was  ex- 
cessive. The  other  was  that  she  now,  for  the  first  time, 
missed  the  living  model.  But  this  discovery,  as  well  as 
her  criticism  of  the  sculptress,  was  promptly  swallowed  up 


58  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

in  the  kaleidoscopic  whirl  of  meeting  still  other  characters 
belonging  to  the  strange  new  society  into  which  she  had 
been  flung. 

Nevertheless,  she  contrived  to  recall  Robert  to  her  side. 

"What  a  wonderful  head  Robert  has!"  Miss  Beecher  was 
rhapsodizing,  while  she  glanced  sentimentally  from  the 
statue  to  the  living  model.  "I  declare,  it's  all  brain." 

"It  sure  is!"  echoed  Mazie,  mockingly.  "But  it's  not  a 
patch  on  his  wonderful  heart." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  the  spot  where  she  supposed  this 
organ  to  be,  and  added,  without  crediting  the  epigram  to 
Cornelia  who  had  originated  it: 

"That's  all  brain,  too!" 

Everybody  laughed,  Robert  no  less  heartily  than  his 
neighbors.  Everybody,  that  is,  save  Charlotte  Beecher, 
whose  sharp  glance  at  Mazie  softened  to  tenderness  as  it 
swept  on  towards  Robert. 

The  second  person  to  fascinate  Janet  was  a  youngish 
woman  in  a  Syrian  dress  of  many  boldly  brilliant  color 
clashes.  Contrasts  as  startling  were  achieved  by  her  coal 
black  hair,  her  pale  olive  skin,  and  the  gorgeous  green  pen- 
dants attached  to  her  ears.  She  had  the  barbaric  pictur- 
esqueness  of  a  White  African  Queen  straight  out  of  Rider 
Haggard,  and  about  as  much  credibility.  But  she  posed 
with  unlimited  self-confidence. 

So  speculated  Janet.  The  next  moment  she  reminded 
herself  of  the  necessity  of  keeping  an  eye  (and  perhaps  a 
string)  on  Robert  Lloyd. 

But  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  In  his  usual  insidious 
fashion,  he  had  taken  French  leave  while  the  circle  of 
spectators  was  absorbed  in  the  ritual  of  weaving  gossip 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  59 

amongst  themselves  or  blessing  Miss  Beecher's  next  putty 
statuette  with  lavish  adjectives  and  exclamations. 

His  disappearance  piqued  Janet.  But  the  exhilaration 
caused  by  all  the  enchantments  of  the  ball  and  all  the 
thrills  of  Claude's  gallantry  and  charm,  did  not  permit  her 
to  allow  any  one  emotion  more  than  a  fleeting  hospitality. 

Claude  watched  his  chance  of  enticing  her  to  another 
novelty.  On  the  way,  she  begged  him  to  enlighten  her 
about  the  people  she  had  just  met. 

"Tell  me  all  about  the  sculptress  and  about  the  Rider 
Haggard  lady  with  the  earrings,"  she  said. 

Claude  explained  that  these  ladies  were  both  considered 
freaks  even  among  the  Outlaws:  Charlotte  Beecher,  be- 
cause she  was  an  heiress  who  wore  a  working  girl's  clothes 
and  toiled  harder  with  the  sculptor's  chisel  than  a  day 
laborer  with  a  pickaxe;  Lydia  Morrow,  not  so  much  because 
she  had  a  flair  for  spectacular  dresses,  Leon  Bakst  colors  and 
startling  jewelry,  as  because  her  authorship  of  half  a  dozen 
best  sellers  had  given  her  almost  unlimited  means  to  gratify 
these  vagaries. 

"Lydia  Morrow?  I  don't  seem  to  know  the  name,"  said 
Janet. 

"Lydia  Dyson,  her  maiden  name,  is  the  name  she  writes 
under." 

This  name  Janet  knew  well  enough.  It  was  a  familiar 
name  wherever  American  magazines  flourished;  even  among 
the  Barrs  of  Brooklyn  it  was  a  household  fixture.  The 
stupendous  fact  was  that  Lydia  Dyson's  novels  of  approxi- 
mated naughtiness,  sensual  slush  and  disembowelled  pas- 
sion, appeared  serially  and  simultaneously  in  magazines 
with  as  different  a  clientele  as  the  Saturday  Morning  Post, 


60  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

the  Purple  Book,  Anybody's  and  the    Women's    Bazaar. 

Claude  added  that  he  had  his  own  reasons  for  calling  the 
two  young  women  freaks. 

"All  these  people  are  loony  on  the  subject  of  love,"  he 
said,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  that  appeared  to  include  the 
whole  membership  of  the  ball.  "Some  because  they've  had 
too  much  of  it,  but  more  because  they've  had  too  little. 
Mazie  is  one  of  a  small  group  that  is  suffering  from  surfeit. 
But  Charlotte  and  Lydia  belong  to  the  other  class.  Char- 
lotte wants  a  husband  without  a  whole  lot  of  love,  and 
Lydia  wants  a  whole  lot  of  love  without  a  husband.  As 
for  Mazie,  there's  nothing  left  for  her  to  want  but  a  rich 
protector,  with  as  little  love  in  the  bargain  as  possible." 

This  offhand  analysis  set  Janet  to  wondering  what 
Claude's  own  conception  of  love  might  be.  He  went 
blithely  on: 

"The  difficulty  with  Charlotte  is  that  she's  too  particular; 
with  Lydia,  that  she's  not  particular  enough.  Not  one- 
tenth  particular  enough  for  Gordon  Morrow,  her  husband, 
who  lives  on  her  money  but  won't  be  kept  in  his  place. 
He  actually  presumes  to  be  furiously  jealous.  But,  how- 
ever comic  a  figure  he  may  cut,  who  can  blame  him  for 
drawing  the  line  at  a  blackguard  like  Hutchins  Burley? 
Here's  Hutch  staggering  this  way,  now.  After  you,  the 
impudent  beggar!" 

Naturally,  in  this  quarter,  Burley  had  little  luck.  Janet 
shrank  away  from  him,  and  Claude  froze  him  off  as  he 
had  already  done  two  or  three  times  that  night.  En- 
venomed, but  nothing  daunted,  Hutchins  Burley  careered, 
none  too  steadily,  over  to  the  circle  around  the  sculptress. 
Claude  watched  him  disgustedly. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  6l 

"If  Morrow  catches  him  pawing  all  over  his  wife,  there'll 
be  trouble.  And  Lydia  Dyson's  not  the  woman  to  lift  her 
little  finger  to  avert  it.  She  has  a  theory  that  'Big  Burley' 
is  a  sort  of  twentieth  century  edition  of  the  Cave  Man,  a 
theory  she  is  not  above  putting  to  the  proof.  Husband  or 
no  husband,  a  big  scene  is  nectar  and  ambrosia  to  her." 

He  looked  anxiously  back  at  Charlotte  Beecher's  group. 
"Let's  go  away  from  here,"  he  said,  taking  her  arm  with 
protective  tenderness. 

"Shall  we  go  back  to  the  tent?" 

"I'd  like  to  take  you  much  further  than  that.  You  are 
too  wonderful  and  genuine  to  fit  into  this  hothouse  crowd." 

Janet  liked  his  pretty  speeches,  but  she  had  not  yet  had 
her  fill  of  the  carnival  of  pleasure. 

Claude's  fears  were  only  too  speedily  realized.  Hardly 
had  he  returned  Janet  to  her  gypsy  tent,  than  shouts  and 
screams  ascended  from  the  sculptress'  quarter.  Claude 
hastened  to  the  spot  and  found  two  knots  of  men  pulling 
Burley  away  from  Lydia's  husband  and  heightening  the 
disorder  in  the  act. 

The  commotion  now  took  a  new  turn.  Burley  had  not 
forgotten  the  man  who  had  cold-shouldered  him  out  of 
Janet's  way  several  times.  As  soon  as  he  laid  eyes  on 
Claude  and  observed  him  assisting  Charlotte  Beecher  in 
a  feverish  effort  to  save  her  putty  models,  his  rage  reached 
its  climax.  Every  ounce  of  his  bulky  weight  was  put  into 
a  titanic  pull  that  jerked  him  loose  from  those  who  re- 
strained him.  Using  his  momentary  freedom  to  snatch  up 
the  little  bust  of  Robert,  he  flung  it  at  Claude's  head. 

"No  diamond  shark  can  come  butting  in  here,"  he  shouted, 
in  a  purple  fury. 


62  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

The  bust  went  far  wide  of  its  mark.  But  not  the  taunt. 
It  stung  Claude  into  sudden  violence,  so  that  he  sprang 
towards  Burley  with  the  object  of  thrashing  him.  Thirty 
or  forty  people  having  now  been  drawn  into  the  melee, 
however,  he  was  saved  the  ignominy  of  a  public  brawl. 

At  the  height  of  the  turmoil  Claude's  arm  was  clasped 
by  an  iron  hand.  It  was  the  hand  of  a  tall  immaculate  man 
who  spoke  to  him  hi  a  low  calm  voice. 

"A  word  of  warning,  Mr.  Fontaine,"  he  said,  urging  him 
away  from  the  fracas.  "Get  your  friends  out  of  here  at 
oncel  Detectives  are  about  to  raid  the  place." 

"Detectives!  Are  you  one?"  asked  Claude,  more  or  less 
bewildered. 

"No,  not  particularly,"  was  the  whimsical  reply  of  the 
stranger,  who  then  moved  decisively  away  and  evaporated 
as  suddenly  as  he  had  turned  up. 

As  soon  as  Claude  rallied  his  wits,  he  acted  swiftly.  He 
persuaded  Charlotte  Beecher,  who  happened  to  be  near,  to 
follow  him;  and  then  took  the  shortest  cut  to  the  gypsy 
tent,  where  Janet  greeted  his  return  with  a  happy  cry  of 
relief.  Excitedly  he  warned  her  of  the  raid,  and  urged 
her  to  lose  no  time  in  preparing  to  leave  with  him. 

She  obeyed,  not  without  a  pang  of  regret. 

Regret?  It  was  not  parting  with  the  musical  Rough- 
necks, though  they  were  better  than  their  names;  it  was 
not  turning  her  back  on  the  dancing,  though  this  had  in- 
toxicated her;  and  it  was  not  saying  farewell  to  the  riot  of 
color,  costume  and  confetti,  though  these  had  put  her  in 
an  ecstacy  of  delight.  At  least,  it  was  not  an  extravagant 
hunger  for  these  pleasures.  And  she  certainly  had  nothing 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  63 

but  measureless  disgust  for  a  crowd  of  brawling,  shouting, 
turbulent  men. 

Why  regret  then? 

It  was  merely  because  of  the  obvious  difference  between 
her  joyless  home  and  this  night's  experience.  Beside  the 
deathlike  stagnation  of  the  Barrs  of  Brooklyn,  the  move- 
ment, intensity  and  go  of  the  Outlaws  had  what  she  cheer- 
fully accepted  as  the  quality  and  flavor  of  reality.  "This 
is  life,"  a  still,  small  voice  cried  within  her,  meaning  that 
this  was  at  least  a  fairly  good  imitation  of  life  on  its  gayer 
side.  And  she  revelled  unblushingly  in  the  enchantment 
that  her  ignorance  of  pleasure  and  her  natural  high  spirits 
had  cast  around  Kips  Bay,  the  model  tenements,  Cornelia, 
Robert  and  Claude. 

Ah  yes,  and  Claude!  With  Claude  at  her  side  she 
doubted  whether  she  should  mind  even  a  raid.  Indeed, 
wouldn't  it  be  rather  fun  to  be  caught  in  one?  And  so, 
while  Claude  was  preoccupied  with  piloting  his  charges 
to  safety,  Janet  half  hoped  that  she  might  not  be  cheated 
of  a  practical  answer  to  her  question. 

VI 

Meanwhile  the  quiet  stranger  had  contrived  to  get  into 
one  of  the  twisting,  struggling  whirlpools  of  men  in  the 
fracas,  and  to  insinuate  his  immaculate  person  next  to 
Hutchins  Burley. 

"Have  a  care,"  he  said,  in  Burley's  ear.  "In  another 
minute  this  rough-house  will  be  cleaned  up  by  plain-clothes 
men." 

"Who  in  hell  are  you?"  yelled  Burley,  none  too  pleased 


64  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

with  the  features  of  the  man  who  had  warned  him  before. 

"Why,  nobody  in  particular,"  answered  the  stranger 
coolly,  and  beginning  to  edge  rapidly  away.  Burley 
tramped  after  him,  his  befuddled  wits  somewhat  cleared 
by  the  recent  pummelling. 

"Then  how  the  devil  did  you  spot  the  cops?"  he  said, 
ploughing  his  way  ruthlessly  through  human  obstructions. 
"Do  they  whisper  the  secrets  in  your  beautiful  ears?" 

"Oh,  secrets  are  always  coming  my  way,"  was  the  non- 
chalant answer. 

The  mysterious  one  halted  as  soon  as  he  had  put  several 
yards  between  himself  and  the  mob.  Cool  and  self-con- 
tained, he  was  a  striking  contrast  to  Hutchins  Burley  as 
the  latter,  dishevelled,  muttering  and  out  of  breath,  bore 
down  upon  him. 

"Mr.  Burley,  you'd  better  go,  while  the  going's  good! 
Here's  an  emergency  exit.  Good  night.  I'll  look  you  up 
in  the  morning." 

While  the  stranger's  unobtrusive  figure  merged  into  the 
environment,  Burley  took  the  hint  with  loud  Falstaffian 
clatter.  He  had  barely  passed  through  the  door,  when  the 
lights  went  out  and  the  raid  actually  began. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 
I 

During  the  Outlaws'  Ball,  Cornelia  sat  alone  in  the 
Lorillard  apartment.  Had  she  dressed  for  the  masquerade 
she  had  declined  to  attend?  One  might  have  been  pardoned 
for  thinking  so.  To  a  piece  of  black  satin,  draped  around 
her  in  sensuous  lines,  a  girdle  of  tangerine  velvet  added 
the  sole  touch  of  color.  It  also  served  to  draw  her  dress 
in  high  above  the  waist  and  to  bring  out  the  burnished 
gold  of  her  hair.  The  fabric  was  ingeniously  held  together 
by  pins,  Cornelia  being  an  advocate  of  a  mode  of  dressing 
or  draping  that  dispensed  with  sewing  as  much  as  possible. 

One  handsome  shoulder  was  bare;  and  this  arrangement 
detracted  nothing  from  the  garment's  look  of  insecurity. 
Cornelia's  men  friends  were  apt  to  be  on  tenterhooks  lest 
her  pinned  dresses  should  suddenly  come  to  pieces.  It 
was  an  emotion  she  was  not  altogether  unconscious  of,  or 
wholly  displeased  with. 

To  the  very  last  she  had  persisted  in  her  refusal  to 
take  part  in  the  festivity,  and  had  held  out  firmly  against 
the  friendly  blandishments  with  which  Janet,  Robert, 
Mazie,  and  Hutchins  Burley  had  successively  tried  to  shake 
her  determination.  She  defended  her  position  by  declaring 
that  dancing  bored  her  to  distraction,  not  to  mention  that 
the  current  dance  forms,  the  fox  trot,  the  jazz  steps  and 
the  glide,  seemed  to  her  to  be  unspeakable  profanations 
of  a  fine  art. 


66  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

With  this  explanation  her  friends  had  to  be  content,  while 
they  guessed  at  the  true  reason  for  her  refusal.  Claude 
hazarded  the  view  that  her  real  motive  was  a  dread  of 
emerging  in  public  while  her  affair  with  Percival  Houghton, 
the  artist,  was  still  fresh  in  everybody's  memory.  Mazie 
repeated  her  laconic  opinion  that  Cornelia  could  spite  more 
people  and  attract  more  attention  by  being  missed  than  by 
being  present. 

About  eleven  o'clock  some  one  rang.  When  Cornelia 
opened  the  door,  she  was  confronted  by  an  athletic  young 
man  whom  she  recognized  as  the  occupant  of  apartment 
number  thirteen,  the  one  next  to  her  own.  Mistaking  her 
dress  for  negligee,  he  apologized  profusely  and  then  ex- 
plained that  the  gas  in  his  room  having  suddenly  given  out 
he  needed  a  twenty-five-cent  piece  to  set  the  meter  in  action 
again.  Cornelia  observed  that  whereas  his  form  was  the 
form  of  the  roaring  lion,  his  voice  was  the  voice  of  the 
cooing  dove. 

"I  always  keep  an  extra  quarter  on  the  mantelpiece," 
he  said,  coloring  with  embarrassment,  "but  the  light  went 
down  all  of  a  sudden,  and  in  the  dark  I  couldn't  locate 
the  pesky  coin." 

Cornelia  hastened  to  get  the  necessary  money.  Return- 
ing, she  sympathized  with  him  upon  the  fickleness  of 
quarter  meters. 

"Horrid,  mercenary  things!  I'd  give  them  'no  quarter,' 
if  I  dared,  wouldn't  you?" 

"Yes — the  light  always  goes  out  in  the  dark,"  he  said, 
quaintly. 

He  was  obviously  anxious  to  make  a  good  impression, 
and  ill  at  ease  because  of  this  anxiety. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  67 

"Just  wait  a  second,  will  you,  Miss,"  he  said,  as  she 
handed  him  the  money.  "I'll  give  it  back  right  away." 

As  his  door  was  only  a  few  feet  away  from  hers,  she 
waited  in  the  hall  and  looked  curiously  into  his  room  after 
he  had  lighted  up.  She  noticed  that  the  place  was  filled 
with  gymnastic  paraphernalia — clubs,  dumb-bells,  weights, 
and  a  boxing  bag  apparatus.  Meanwhile,  he  rummaged 
through  the  articles  on  the  mantelpiece  until  he  discovered 
the  missing  money  tucked  snugly  away  in  an  empty  match- 
box. 

"I  don't  know  how  it  got  there,"  he  said,  ruefully.  "I 
guess  I  meant  to  put  it  underneath,  but  slipped  it  into  the 
box  absent-mindedly." 

She  smiled.  "You  have  a  complete  pocket  gymnasium," 
she  commented. 

"Yes,  I'm  pretty  well  rigged  out,"  he  replied,  delighted 
at  her  show  of  interest. 

He  was  very  much  impressed  with  her  appearance,  which 
mirrored  a  world  socially  more  elevated  and  more  beautiful 
than  his  own.  He  racked  his  wits  for  an  excuse  to  detain 
her. 

"Is  this  how  you  keep  in  trim?"  asked  Cornelia,  indicat- 
ing the  apparatus. 

"I — I'm  a  professional  wrestler  and  a  physical  culture 
expert,"  he  went  on,  fumbling  in  his  pocket  for  a  visiting 
card. 

"Ah,  I  see.  It's  business,  not  pleasure."  She  did  not 
look  at  the  card,  but  flashed  eloquent  glances  at  his  figure. 

"That's  it,"  he  replied,  emboldened  by  her  mute  flattery. 
"Will  you  come  in  and  let  me  show  you  around?  Young 
ladies  aren't  always  interested  in  these  things." 


68  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Another  time.    It's  too  late  now." 

Her  phrases  emerged  so  curtly  and  her  relapse  into 
frigid  conventionality  was  so  abrupt  that  the  young  man 
stammered  a  hurt  good  night,  and  rather  hastily  closed  his 
door. 

Cornelia  gained  her  sexual  gratification  in  diluted  but 
frequent  doses.  Without  being  a  deliberate  flirt  like  Mazie, 
she  instinctively  tried  out  the  subtler  weapons  of  sex  on 
every  man  she  liked  and,  since  her  appearance  was  both 
striking  and  agreeable  and  her  likings  fairly  far  flung, 
men  often  responded  to  her  charm  with  a  crudeness  that 
gave  her  great  offence.  She  seemed  unconscious  of  the 
incitement  in  her  manner;  when,  on  one  occasion,  Robert 
pointed  it  out,  she  denied  the  charge  with  mingled  passion 
and  surprise. 

And  it  was  quite  true  that  she  took  no  pleasure  in  arous- 
ing a  man's  desire.  All  her  pleasure  was  derived  from 
baffling  it.  Curiously  enough,  an  enamored  man  was  an 
object  which  aroused  in  her  only  a  feeling  of  distaste.  And 
the  presence  of  this  feeling  satisfied  her  that  she  was  the 
innocent  victim  of  his  condition  rather  than  the  responsible 
author. 

Perhaps  it  was  this  attitude  of  Cornelia's  that  Robert 
had  in  mind  when  he  said  that  there  was  an  indefinable 
suggestion  of  latent  wickedness  about  her,  of  wickedness 
she  had  neither  the  vitality  nor  the  courage  to  live  up  to. 
How  much  her  luckless  amour  had  to  do  with  her  inverted 
sex  emotions,  it  would  be  hard  to  say.  Robert's  private 
view  was  that  it  had  thrown  her  into  the  society  of  people 
like  the  Kips  Bay  tenementers  who,  by  all  current  moral 
standards,  were  not  "respectable."  He  also  held  that  it 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  69 

had  inspired  her  with  a  passion  for  respectability,  as  secret 
and  as  strong  as  the  drunkard's  longing  to  be  considered 
a  sober  man. 

After  her  neighbor's  retirement,  Cornelia  looked  at  his 
card.  In  the  middle  was  inscribed  the  name  "Harry  Kelly" 
and  underneath  appeared:  "The  Harlem  Gorilla,  Champion 
of  the  Mat." 

II 

It  was  an  hour  or  more  before  the  doorbell  of  suite 
number  fifteen  rang  again.  This  time  the  visitor  was 
Robert  Lloyd.  His  entrance  drove  Cornelia's  languor  away. 
But  she  concealed  her  immense  delight  and  received  him 
neutrally  enough. 

"I  couldn't  endure  the  monotony  of  the  ball  another 
minute,"  he  declared.  "You've  no  idea  what  a  relief  it 
is  to  be  able  to  come  here." 

"What  was  so  monotonous,  Cato?" 

"What  wasn't!"  said  Robert,  taking  off  his  overcoat  and 
revealing  the  black  friar's  hood  and  gown  that  had  served 
him  during  the  evening.  "The  music,  the  dancing,  the 
ogling,  the  drinking,  the  sickening  coquetry,  the  silly 
speeches  to  and  from  brainless  companions — in  short,  every- 
thing!" 

"My  dear!"  exclaimed  Cornelia.  "At  a  ball,  what  can 
you  expect?" 

"Oh,  I  know  I'm  a  fool  for  my  pains,"  said  Robert, 
laughing  off  the  vexation  he  felt  at  having  frittered  away 
a  whole  evening. 

;He  began  to  undo  the  girdle  of  his  gown. 


70  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Stop!"  she  cried.  "I  haven't  had  a  really  good  look  at 
your  costume." 

"Nor  I  at  yours,"  he  said,  noticing  how  her  dress  lapped 
and  caressed  her  form.  He  praised  the  effect  freely. 

Pleased,  she  went  to  his  side,  pulled  his  hood  over  his 
head,  set  his  girdle  and  gown  aright,  and  then  stepped  back 
to  inspect  the  result,  clapping  her  hands  in  approval  as 
she  did  so. 

"When  the  devil  is  sick  of  the  world,  the  devil  a  monk 
would  be!" 

"The  devil  a  monk  am  I!"  said  Robert,  "unless  an 
unhcly  rage  at  the  world  is  a  first-class  qualification  for 
monastic  honors." 

"Robert,  the  part  fits  you  to  perfection.  It's  astonishing 
how  neatly  you  manage  to  blend  the  temper  of  a  devil  with 
the  austerity  of  a  monk." 

"Not  astonishing  at  all,"  said  Robert,  divesting  himself 
of  the  costume.  "Like  most  young  men  I  have  a  craving 
for  pleasure,  excitement  and  female  society.  That's  what 
you  call  the  devil  in  me.  But  my  observation  is  keen 
enough  to  show  me  that,  under  present  social  conditions, 
I  can't  give  this  craving  either  a  temperate  or  an  honorable 
satisfaction.  So  I  repress  it  as  much  as  common  sense 
allows,  and  you  call  that  repression  austerity." 

"Cato,  you  ought  to  be  writing  tracts  for  the  Ethical 
Culture  Society  instead  of  newspaper  articles  for  Hutchins' 
wicked  Evening  Chronicle.  What  are  you  doing  among  the 
Outlaws  instead  of  in  a  goody-goody  Sunday  School?" 

He  took  her  raillery  in  good  part. 

"Every  journalist  is  a  patcher-up  of  unconsidered  trifles," 
he  said.  "He  makes  a  crazy  quilt  of  them  as  orderly  and 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  71 

coherent  as  he  can.  Well,  where  can  I  get  the  raw  material 
I  need  in  greater  supply  than  in  this  little  community  of 
criminality  and  sentimentality,  of  Radicalism  and  bad 
debts?  Kips  Bay  is  an  inexhaustible  mine  of  police  news 
and  town  talk." 

"Well,  I  can't  say  that  your  kind  stay  among  us  has 
broadened  you  out  much,  Rob!" 

"No?"  he  replied,  amused  at  the  shot.  "I  suppose  I  do 
grow  more  squeamish  every  day.  Nothing  like  a  steady 
diet  of  police  episodes  for  purifying  purposes.  It  acts  the 
way  some  nauseous  drugs  do." 

"You're  perfectly  detestable,"  she  cried.  She  didn't  like 
anybody  but  herself  to  disparage  Kips  Bay.  "You've  put 
your  mind  in  a  prison,  Rob.  Your  symptoms  require  a 
drastic  remedy.  If  I  were  a  physician  of  the  soul,  I  should 
prescribe  marriage." 

"Don't  be  a  Job's  comforter,  Cornelia.  I  said  I  wanted 
female  society,  not  female  satiety.  And,  by  the  way,  since 
when  did  you  begin  to  advocate  marriage  as  the  door  to 
freedom?  You  have  always  denounced  it  as  the  trapdoor 
to  slavery." 

"I  don't  advocate  it  for  women,  and  even  for  men  I 
recommend  it  only  in  the  most  desperate  cases." 

"Well,  mine  isn't  desperate.  But  Hutchins  Burley's  is, 
judging  from  his  conduct  at  the  ball  tonight.  You  might 
prescribe  for  him." 

"Oh,  he's  past  all  treatment.  What  do  you  think  he 
told  me  in  strict  confidence  yesterday?  That  he's  weighed 
down  by  a  great  sorrow;  too  many  women  find  him  irre- 
sistible, and  persecute  him  to  death  with  their  lovesick 
attentions." 


72  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"I  call  that  a  new  form  of  persecutional  mania." 

"He  was  in  dead  earnest,  Rob.  He  called  himself  a 
martyr  to  love,  fancy  thatl" 

"Well,  he  seemed  to  be  a  remarkably  willing  martyr 
tonight.  He  buzzed  like  a  huge  wasp  from  one  pair  of  lips 
to  another.  When  he  got  to  Mazie,  who  unfolds  her  petals 
so  alluringly,  he  became  quite  intoxicated." 

"Which  means  that  Mazie  acted  in  a  perfectly  shameless 
way,  as  usual." 

"Whose  mind  is  a  prison  now?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Cornelia  acridly. 
"Please  don't  assume  that,  because  I  no  longer  believe  hi 
marriage,  I've  turned  my  back  on  decency  and  good  man- 
ners." 

"This  is  breaking  a  butterfly  on  a  wheel,  Cornelia.  The 
fact  is,  Mazie  doesn't  have  to  act  to  produce  the  peculiar 
behavior  in  men  which  I  described.  You  know  that  quite 
well.  She  is  what  Joseph  Conrad  calls  'one  of  the  women 
of  all  time.'  I'd  call  her  a  throw-back  with  the  emotions 
and  appetites  of  a  cave  woman  and  the  thoughts  and  looks 
of  a  Ziegfield  chorus  girl.  It's  not  by  acting  shamelessly, 
or  by  acting  at  all,  but  by  just  passively  being  herself  that 
she  sets  a  man's  blood  boiling." 

"A  man's  blood  boils  so  easily — like  a  kettle  on  a 
mountain!" 

"Be  fair,  Cornelia.  Some  men's  blood  does,  yes.  Men 
on  Mazie's  own  level.  Burley's  one  of  them." 

"Well,"  said  Cornelia,  waving  the  point,  "what  did 
Hutchins  do,  or  rather  undo?" 

"I'd  better  not  go  into  details.  He  played  several  ques- 
tionable pranks.  Once,  it  looked  as  though  he  were  on 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  73 

the  point  of  seizing  Mazie  by  her  locks  and  dragging  her, 
stone-man  fashion,  to  his  lair.  Even  Mazie  had  to  act 
then,  really  to  act,  for  she  was  after  bigger  game." 

"You  mean,  Claude?" 

"Yes.  But  Claude  had  no  eyes  for  the  woman  of  all  time. 
His  gaze  was  absolutely  absorbed  by  a  new  star  of  the  first 
magnitude,  a  star  not  charted  in  the  heavens  before." 

"And  this  starry  wonder?" 

"Was  Janet  Barr." 

He  tried  to  say  the  name  casually,  but  Cornelia's  jealous 
ear  detected  a  caressing  tone. 

"Hard  on  Mazie,  wasn't  it?"  he  pursued. 

"On  Mazie  least  of  all,"  she  said  pointedly. 

The  shaft  missed. 

"Yes,  Burley  got  the  worst  end  of  it,"  he  went  on  inno- 
cently. "I  dare  say  Mazie  consoled  herself  easily  enough. 
But  Burley's  aspirations  have  met  more  than  one  jolt  to- 
night. When  he  made  a  dead  set  at  Janet — that  was 
another  rebuff." 

Robert  described  the  riotous  scene  outside  the  gypsy  tent. 

"Then,  as  I've  already  told  you,  Mazie  gave  him  the 
slip;  with  the  result  that  I've  never  seen  Burley  more 
completely  divested  of  his  first-prize  bumptiousness.  How- 
ever, he  soon  pulled  himself  together." 

"Goodness  knows  there  must  have  been  plenty  of  Outlaw 
girls  ready  to  lay  balm  on  the  big  scamp's  wounds." 

"Yes.  And  I  needn't  remind  you  that  many  of  these 
young  ladies  believe  in  free  speech,  free  men  and  free  love. 
Well,  Hutchins  made  the  rounds  of  those  he  knew  and 
publicly  challenged  them  to  live  up  to  their  pretensions. 
His  proposals  were  brutally  frank." 


74  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"The  girls  received  them  with  amusement,  I  suppose?" 

"They  received  them  with  scornful  resentment — just  like 
ordinary  conventional  creatures.  That  was  what  was  so 
surprising.  For  Hutchins  was  simply  a  man  who  took 
their  professed  opinions  at  face  value.  'Darling,'  he  would 
say  bluntly,  to  one  of  his  pets,  'Darling,  I  like  you  and 
your  ruby  lips.  If  you  like  me  and  are  not  otherwise 
engaged,  suppose  we  go  off  to  Paradise.'  It  was  raw,  of 
course.  But  you  can't  say  it  wasn't  what  is  called  'free 
love'." 

"Really,  Rob!" 

"Exactly.  They  were  every  bit  as  scandalized  as  you 
are.  After  gasping  for  breath,  they  called  for  their  escorts. 
Whereupon  I  concluded  that  instinct  is  mightier  than  opin- 
ion and  that  the  beliefs  we  inherit  are  vastly  stronger  than 
the  beliefs  we  acquire." 

Cornelia  ignored  this  piece  of  satire.  And  Robert  then 
told  how  Burley  had  resumed  his  pursuit  of  Janet. 

"Luckily,  Claude  held  him  off,"  he  said. 

"Another  champion!  Little  Janet  must  be  quite  the 
belle  of  the  ball." 

"She's  been  much  in  demand.  There  was  the  gypsy 
tent,  remember.  When  it  comes  to  innocent  credulity,  a 
radical's  capacaity  is  just  as  great  as  any  honest  man's.  So 
what  with  examining  scores  of  palms  and  eluding  Hutchins 
Burley,  Janet  might  have  died  from  exhaustion  but  for 
Claude's  gallant  interference." 

"Just  like  Claude's  knight-errantry,"  she  said.  "He  has 
always  had  a  passion  for  novelties." 

"And  the  novelties  have  usually  returned  the  passion!" 

Cornelia  felt  a  twinge  of  jealousy.     But  as  Janet  had 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  75 

evidently  not  been  very  attentive  to  Robert,  and  had  even 
hurt  his  feelings,  she  was  hardly  conscious  of  the  emotion. 

"Janet  is  young,  impressionable  and  fresh  from  a  Puritan 
home,"  she  said,  with  a  languid  air  of  detachment.  "Small 
wonder  if  Lothario's  dash  and  distinction  have  captivated 
her." 

They  fell  to  talking  of  Janet's  history,  and  Robert  spoke 
of  the  surprising  change  in  her  sphere  of  interests. 

"A  month  ago  she  was  demure  enough  to  have  stood 
model  for  the  heroine  of  Miles  Standish.  She  could  hardly 
be  induced  to  drink  at  a  soda-water  fountain  on  a  Sunday. 
Now  she  is-  full  of  'equal  pay  for  equal  work.'  And  she 
appears  to  have  a  voice  as  well  as  a  vote.  I'm  told  that 
she  reads  the  Liberator  and  that  she  broke  the  last  Sabbath 
by  attending  a  meeting  of  the  new  Labor  Party  in  Madison 
Square  Garden." 

"She's  been  under  my  whig  for  several  weeks,"  said 
Cornelia,  proudly. 

m 

Cornelia's  assumption  that  she  was  entirely  responsible 
for  the  change  in  Janet's  outlook  on  life  was  without  war- 
rant. Yet  she  was  so  self-satisfied  as  scarcely  to  suspect 
that  Robert  had  anything  to  do  with  the  matter;  and  it 
was  interest  in  the  man  rather  than  curiosity  about  the 
girl  that  caused  her  to  question  him  about  his  previous 
acquaintance  with  Janet. 

She  learnt  that  Robert's  mother  was  not  a  very  distant 
cousin  of  Mrs.  Barr,  and  that  both  ladies  had  spent  their 
girlhood  in  the  same  Connecticut  town,  where  they  had 


76  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

been  friends  until  Mrs.  Lloyd  married  and  went  out  West. 
When  Robert  left  Los  Angeles,  he  bore  this  relationship 
in  mind  and,  on  the  strength  of  it,  paid  his  respects  to  the 
Barrs  soon  after  settling  in  New  York. 

Cornelia  inferred  that  the  young  man's  acquaintance  with 
the  Barrs  had  continued  on  a  very  superficial  footing. 
Robert  knew  better  than  to  undeceive  her.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  he  had  repeated  his  visits  to  the  Barr  household 
for  the  simple  reason  that  there  had  sprung  up  between 
himself  and  Janet  a  mental  fellowship  which  the  hostility 
of  her  mother,  the  timid  aloofness  of  her  father  and  the 
envy  of  her  sister  had  been  able  to  obstruct  but  not  to 
destroy. 

Janet  had  more  than  repaid  him  for  the  inhospitality  of 
her  relatives.  She  in  turn  amused,  puzzled,  inspired  and 
electrified  him.  So  much  unsophistication  in  the  midst  of 
a  guileful  city,  so  much  candor  surrounded  by  pious  make- 
believe,  above  all,  so  much  eagerness  for  experience  held 
in  leash  by  a  vegetating  family  routine,  had  filled  Robert 
with  the  hope  that  he  might  play  Pygmalion  to  her  Galatea. 

Galatea,  however,  did  not  exactly  go  into  raptures  over 
Pygmalion.  Though  her  insurgent  nature  was  full  of  silent 
sympathy  with  Robert,  her  instincts  were  so  much  under 
the  bondage  of  the  Barr  atmosphere  as  to  prevent  her  from 
fully  estimating  his  worth.  Still,  she  conscientiously  fol- 
lowed up  the  leads  he  gave  her.  She  made  her  first  be- 
wildered acquaintance  with  the  new  paintings,  the  new 
music  and  the  new  social  sciences.  She  began  to  look  for- 
ward to  copies  of  the  Republic,  the  Nation,  the  London 
Statesman;  and  she  joined  him  in  reading  the  great  con- 
temporary writers:  Bernard  Shaw,  H.  G.  Wells,  Anatole 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  77 

France,  Remain  Rolland.  In  short,  she  ranged  with  silent 
delight  through  the  new  world  of  modernity  that  he  opened 
up  to  her,  though  it  had  to  be  explored  in  an  obstinate 
little  way  of  her  own. 

As  her  unofficial  pilot  Robert  was  very  happy  and  might 
long  have  held  the  post  but  for  a  fatal  blunder.  Mrs.  Barr 
learned  one  day  that  he  had  tempted  Janet  to  attend  a 
performance  of  Shaw's  "Blanco  Posnet,"  given  on  a  Sunday 
by  the  Stage  Reform  Players.  According  to  Emily,  her 
informant,  this  play  was  immoral,  not  to  say  blasphemous, 
as  was  proved  by  the  refusal  of  the  British  censor  to  license 
its  performance. 

Such  a  flagrant  breach  of  holy  writ,  family  propriety 
and  the  Sabbath,  raised  a  domestic  tempest  to  which  Janet 
deemed  it  wise  to  bend.  Robert  was  forced  to  discontinue 
his  visits.  What  he  did  not  tell  Cornelia  was  that,  during 
the  last  two  months,  he  had  regularly  met  Janet  at  Bren- 
tano's,  where  she  had  formed  the  habit  of  browsing  through 
the  new  books  and  magazines  every  Friday  afternoon. 


CHAPTER   SIX 


These  facts  Robert  had  his  own  reasons  for  hiding  from 
Cornelia.  To  cut  the  cross-examination  short,  he  walked 
up  to  a  miniature  portrait  that  hung  on  the  wall  over 
Cornelia's  desk. 

"Why  do  you  keep  this  picture  of  Percival  Houghton 
enshrined  here?" 

"Why  not?"  asked  Cornelia,  taken  by  surprise. 

"It  is  the  only  picture  in  the  room,"  replied  Robert, 
evasively.  "The  face  is  that  of  an  esthete  under  the  influ- 
ence of  paranoia.  It  positively  stares  one  out  of  counte- 
nance. Whenever  I  enter  the  room,  I  feel  as  if  I  mustn't 
take  a  seat  until  I've  bowed  before  it  thrice." 

"I'm  not  responsible  for  other  people's  erratic  feelings." 
Cornelia  would  have  spoken  with  less  acerbity  if  jealousy 
had  prompted  Robert's  remark.  But  his  cool  sardonic  tone 
eliminated  the  theory  of  a  jealous  motive. 

"Pardon  the  explosion,  Cornelia.  But  why  must  this 
man  of  all  men  be  the  presiding  genius  of  your  room?" 

"You  know  the  reason  very  well,  Robert." 

"Unfortunately,  yes.  You  won't  let  your  friends  forget 
it.  By  keeping  this  portrait  in  evidence,  you  actually  force 
the  reason  on  people's  attention.  Do  take  him  down, 
Cornelia,  swathe  him  in  incense,  and  lay  him  away  amongst 
your  most  cherished  souvenirs.  Replace  him,  if  you  must 
replace  him,  with 'a  picture  of  Saint  Francis  or  Savonarola." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  79 

She  bristled  up  under  his  ironic  words.  Her  craving  for 
admiration  vanished  in  her  resentment  of  disapproval. 

"I  am  proud  to  have  known  Percival  Houghton,  and  to 
have  been  his  friend.  Thanks  for  your  recommendation, 
though  I'm  not  aware  of  having  asked  for  it." 

"Don't  be  angry.  You  must  own  that  you  constantly 
remind  your  visitors  of  this  Houghton  affair,  though  what 
advantage  it  is  to  your  position  and  influence,  Heaven  only 
knows.  Let  sleeping  dogs  lie.  Believe  me,  Cornelia,  half 
the  tragedies  in  life  result  from  forgetting  what  we  ought 
to  remember;  the  other  half  from  remembering  what  we 
ought  to  forget." 

"I'm  not  ashamed  of  the  Houghton  affair,  as  you  call 
it,"  said  Cornelia  coldly.  "Why  should  I  be?  It  was  one 
of  those  rare  friendships  that  are  quite  beyond  the  per- 
ception of  vulgar-minded,  low-thoughted  souls.  What  other 
people  think  of  it  concerns  me  very  little." 

She  really  believed  this,  although  it  was  very  wide  of 
the  mark. 

"I  know,"  she  went  on  melodramatically,  "of  the  spiteful 
gossip  behind  my  back.  I  know  of  the  scarlet  colors  in 
which  my  relations  with  Percival  Houghton  are  painted 
by  my  enemies.  Let  them  declaim  against  me!  To  a  few 
real  friends  I  have  told  the  truth.  They  believe  me,  and 
that  is  all  I  ask." 

She  had  in  fact  taken  more  than  one  friend  into  her 
confidence.  It  was  a  common  saying  in  the  Lorillard  tene- 
ments that  the  token  of  admission  to  Cornelia's  inner  circle 
was  the  almost  sacramental  rite  of  receiving  her  account 
of  the  Houghton  episode. 

The  corner  stone  of  this  account — the  supreme  article 


80  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

of  faith! — was  the  point  that  she  and  Percival  Houghton 
had  rigorously  abstained  from  sexual  intimacy  throughout 
their  voyage  together  in  the  same  stateroom.  Not  from 
moral  scruples,  be  it  noted,  but  from  a  desire  to  prove  to 
the  world  that  free  love  and  the  severest  tax  on  self-restraint 
were  perfectly  compatible.  , 

Cornelia  held  passionately  to  the  delusion  that  her 
account  was  accepted  in  every  jot  and  tittle.  Robert  knew 
that  behind  her  back,  most  of  her  friends  greeted  it  with  a 
cynical  smile  and  pronounced  it  a  pardonable  but  much 
too  elaborate  invention.  When  some  one  referred  to  Cor- 
nelia's assertion  that  the  voyage  to  England  had  involved 
no  infraction  of  the  seventh  commandment,  the  women 
would  say  contemptuously:  "If  you're  going  to  be  killed 
for  a  lamb,  you  might  as  well  be  killed  for  a  sheep."  The 
men,  more  vulgarly,  would  exclaim:  "What  a  shame  if 
they  wasted  a  chance  like  that  I" 

Hutchins  Burley,  in  one  of  his  most  egregious  moments, 
wagered  any  amount  that  Cornelia  wasn't  half  as  big  a 
fool  as  her  story  made  her  out  to  be. 

It  was  owing  to  these  and  other  coarse  pleasantries  circu- 
lating at  her  expense  that  Robert  wished  he  could  make 
Cornelia  look  the  facts  in  the  face. 

What  he  regretted  most  of  all,  however,  was  that  she 
seemed  entirely  to  misconstrue  the  visits  of  the  many  men 
who  sauntered  in  and  out  of  her  rooms.  They  came  with 
the  expectation  voiced  by  Oscar  Wilde,  that  "she  who  had 
sinned  once  and  with  loathing,  would  sin  again  many  times, 
and  with  joy."  Clearly,  they  hoped  to  profit  by  the  repe- 
tition. But  this  was  a  truth  to  which  Cornelia  was  obsti- 
nately blind. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  81 

"You,  Robert,"  she  said,  aggrieved  at  his  silence,  "used 
to  be  counted  among  those  who  believed." 

"And  I  am  still.  Good  Heavens,  Cornelia,  why  should  I, 
of  all  people,  doubt  your  words?  Think  of  my  situation. 
Here  am  I,  alone  after  midnight  in  an  apartment  with  a 
young  and  interesting  martyr  in  the  cause  of  free  marriage. 
And  what  do  we  do?  We  discuss  the  subject  of  sex  affini- 
ties, with  a  complete  suspension  of  conventional  reserve. 
Yet  I  couldn't  so  much  as  kiss  you." 

"Oh,  couldn't  you?"  said  Cornelia,  in  a  half  mocking, 
half  challenging  voice. 

This  tremendous  talk,  all  about  herself,  had  completely 
revitalized  her  spirits.  She  sat  forward  intent  on  Robert's 
every  word,  the  movement  causing  her  dress  to  fall  low 
in  front  and  show  all  her  languid  beauty  at  its  best. 

"No ! "  he  said,  gazing  at  her  and  striving  hard  to  steady 
himself. 

"How  do  you  know?"  she  murmured,  in  scarcely  audible 
tones. 

"I  know,"  asserted  Robert  firmly,  returning  to  an  almost 
inhuman  perfection.  "If  I  began  to  make  love  to  you,  I'd 
be  turned  out  in  a  twinkling.  But  who  would  believe  this? 
Not  a  soul.  If  you  were  to  tell  the  facts  to  our  fellow 
tenementers,  they  would  laugh  you  to  scorn,  and  if  /  were 
to  tell  them,  they  would  send  me  to  the  Bloomingdale 
Asylum.  Yet  my  virtue  is  quite  safe  with  you,  Cornelia." 

"You  hardly  do  yourself  justice,  Cato,"  she  said,  biting 
her  lips,  and  adjusting  the  neck  of  her  dress. 

"Oh,  men  are  more  or  less  passive  agents  in  these  matters. 
I'm  safe  with  you  because  your  radicalism,  with  all  its 
offshoots  into  free  love,  free  thought  and  free  religion  is 


82  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

only  skin  deep.  You  are  a  fascinating  instance  in  the  flesh 
of  the  great  modern  feminist  dilemma:  the  demand  for 
independence  and  respectability  coupled  with  the  fatal  long- 
ing to  be  a  Cleopatra,  'one  of  the  women  of  all  time.'  " 

Piqued  at  his  innuendoes,  Cornelia  was  getting  ready  to 
launch  an  acrid  retort,  when  the  door  bell  rang.  It  was 
one  of  those  vicious  jangles  with  which  only  a  policeman 
or  a  pedlar  ventures  to  announce  himself. 

But  the  man  who  roistered  into  the  apartment  was 
Hutchins  Burley. 

II 

It  was  difficult  to  think  of  this  corpulent,  bullying 
brawler  as  one  of  the  leading  newspaper  men  of  the  metrop- 
olis; he  looked  so  very  much  more  like  a  shoddy  loafer 
from  the  underworld.  His  legs  were  still  fairly  steady, 
although  his  head  was  quite  the  reverse.  His  alcoholic 
exertions  had  been  so  ardent,  however,  that  he  sank  on 
the  couch  with  a  loud  snort  of  satisfaction. 

"Where's  Janet  Barr?"  he  demanded,  after  getting  his 
breath.  "I  followed  her  to  Charlotte's  flat,  but  she  wasn't 
there.  That's  where  Lydia  Dyson  said  she  was  going  to, 
the  little  liar." 

Cornelia  shook  her  finger  at  him  in  mock  remonstrance. 

"You  have  seen  quite  enough  of  Janet  for  one  night, 
Hutch,  judging  from  reports  that  have  reached  me.  I'd  be 
doing  no  more  than  was  good  for  you  if  I  put  Mrs.  Burley 
on  your  trail." 

"What  d'ye  think  Lizzie'd  do?"  he  roared.  "She'd 
scratch  your  eyes  out  for  your  pains!" 

He  gave  himself  up  to  a  burst  of  horrible  guffaws.    As 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  83 

Robert  looked  at  the  man's  gross,  overheated,  pitted  face 
and  at  the  Falstaffian  neck  and  trunk,  he  was  overcome 
with  intense  disgust. 

This  disgust  was  only  in  part  shared  by  Cornelia.  True, 
she  did  not  relish  Burley  in  his  present  drunken  condition, 
but  ordinarily  she  confessed  to  a  curious  weakness  for  him. 
"There's  something  about  the  brute  that  I  like,"  she  once 
frankly  said. 

She  found  his  grossness  and  animal  passion  a  relief  from 
the  refinement  and  fastidiousness  of  men  like  Robert. 
There  was  a  certain  quantitative  satisfaction  in  the  spec- 
tacle of  his  enormous  bulk  at  her  feet.  Anyhow,  all  male 
slaves  looked  alike  to  her,  the  fact  being  that  her  appetite 
for  attention  or  devotion  was  at  once  undiscriminating  and 
insatiable. 

Meanwhile  Burley  had  turned  to  Robert. 

"Listen,  my  boy,"  he  said,  clamorously,  "when  you 
marry,  get  a  good  stupid  dray  horse  like  my  dame.  One 
that'll  believe  in  you  even  if  God  Almighty's  against  you. 
A  good  plodding  dray  horse.  That's  the  best  recipe  I  know 
for  marital  felicity." 

In  an  explosion  of  repellent  laughter  he  roared  out  his 
self-applause. 

"You  know  as  much  about  women  as  about  this  tunic 
I'm  cutting  out,"  said  Cornelia,  rebuking  him  mildly  with 
her  voice,  but  not  at  all  with  her  eye. 

"Well,  Corny,"  said  Hutchins,  in  high  excitement,  "I'll 
tell  you  what  I  do  know  about  them."  He  rose  from  the 
lounge  and  dumped  himself  amorously  on  one  of  the  arms 
of  her  easy  chair.  "There  are  only  three  things  a  man 
need  do  to  make  a  hit  with  women:  give  'em  food,  give  'em 


84  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

clothes,  give  'em  hugs.  It's  a  sure-fire  rule  for  managing 
them,  too." 

He  roared  louder  than  ever.  Robert  wished  Cornelia 
wouldn't  encourage  him  under  a  pretense  of  doing  the 
reverse. 

"Now,  Hutch,  go  home,  please,"  she  said,  prompted  by 
his  silent  disapproval.  "You'll  wake  up  all  the  neighbors 
with  your  loud  laughter.  Remember,  the  walls  here  are 
as  thin  as  cardboard." 

By  way  of  answer,  the  irrepressible  roisterer  put  his  arm 
familiarly  around  her  waist  and  tried  to  draw  her  back  into 
the  chair. 

'"Be  human,  Corny,  old  girl,"  he  said.  "Don't  be  a 
psychic  adventuress.  I've  got  to  stay  somewhere  tonight, 
and  I  might  as  well  stay  here." 

Cornelia  wrenched  herself  from  his  grasp  and,  opening 
the  outer  door  with  a  tempestuous  gesture,  told  him  to  leave 
at  once. 

"You'd  better  go,  Hutchins,"  said  Robert,  quietly.  "Cor- 
nelia will  be  more  than  a  match  for  you." 

Burley  began  to  abuse  him  at  the  top  of  his  lungs. 

"For  a  penny,  I'd  break  every  bone  in  your  body,"  he 
shouted. 

"I'll  give  you  twice  that  sum  to  refrain,"  said  Robert 
coolly. 

Burley's  latent  bestiality  was  now  thoroughly  aroused. 
Breathing  threatenings  and  slaughter,  he  advanced  towards 
Robert,  working  himself  into  a  greater  passion  and  shaking 
his  fist  more  savagely  every  step  of  the  way.  Cornelia 
screamed  and  threw  herself  in  the  huge  man's  path.  After 
a  tussle  of  a  few  seconds,  during  which  her  cries  rang 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  85 

through  the  open  door,  he  shoved  her  forcibly  aside. 
Robert's  slim  stature  was  already  poised  for  the  uneven 
combat,  when  a  tall,  agile,  coatless  figure  dashed  in  from 
the  adjoining  apartment  and  deftly  arrested  the  fist  that 
Burley  was  sending  with  considerable  momentum  towards 
Robert's  pale  face. 

"This  way  out!"  exclaimed  the  newcomer  hi  a  voice 
almost  ludicrously  gentle. 

But  there  was  nothing  gentle  about  his  strength.  The 
thwarted  man  sputtered  abusive,  incoherent  indecencies. 
In  vain.  His  expletives  were  cut  short  by  two  hands  of 
steel  that  whirled  his  lumbering  hulk  forward,  steered  him 
past  Cornelia  with  professional  adroitness,  and  escorted  him 
irresistibly  into  the  corridor.  A  moment  later  an  inchoate 
mass  of  humanity  was  torpedoed,  with  projectile  swiftness, 
down  the  first  flight  of  stairs.  To  make  doubly  sure,  the 
direct  actionist  followed  his  missile. 

Rumblings,  sputterings  and  groans  ascended  discordantly 
up  the  stairway.  Presently  the  noise  grew  fitful  and  then 
more  and  more  subdued,  as  if  some  one  had  damped  Vesu- 
vius or  banked  its  fires  for  the  night.  At  length  came 
silence. 

Cornelia  had  sunk  into  a  chair  over  which  Robert  was 
solicitously  bending  when  Burley's  subjugator  returned. 
In  reply  to  Cornelia's  thanks  he  blushed  like  a  boy  and  hid 
his  embarrassment  by  edging  towards  the  door. 

In  the  hall  outside  he  deprecated  Robert's  warm  words. 

"Just  practice  work,"  he  said,  in  the  same  mild  voice  and 
Manhattan  accent.  "A  little  trick  of  concentration.  A  man 
brings  all  his  muscular  power  to  bear  on  a  few  weak  points. 
And  joints.  The  Japs  can  teach  you.  So  can  I." 


86  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

He  drew  a  card  from  his  waistcoat  pocket.  Meanwhile, 
Cornelia,  who  had  followed  Robert  to  the  door,  chanted: 

"You  are  wonderful,  Mr.  Gorilla,  wonderful!  How  do 
you  accomplish  it?" 

"Ah,  Miss,  a  child  could  do  it.  The  main  thing  is  to 
be  a  powerful  breather;  you  can't  do  much  if  you're  only 
a  powerful  eater  or  drinker.  You've  got  to  fill  your  lungs 
and  your  bel — your  abdomen,  with  good  fresh  wind;  then 
you  travel  on  velvet." 

He  gave  Robert  his  card. 

"Come  in  and  I'll  show  you,"  he  said  cordially. 

His  eyes  meeting  Cornelia's  again,  the  vanquished  victor 
withdrew  hi  evident  confusion  to  his  retreat  in  number 
thirteen. 

Robert  looked  at  the  card  and  turned  it  over  to  Cornelia. 
She  recognized  with  a  smile  the  legend  about  Harry  Kelly, 
the  Harlem  Gorilla  and  Champion  of  the  Mat. 


PART  II 
LOVE  AMONG  THE  OUTLAWS 

CHAPTER  SEVEN 


When  Janet  awoke  at  eleven,  it  took  her  several  moments 
to  recollect  that  she  was  in  Cornelia's  apartment  in  Kips 
Bay,  where  Claude  had  left  her  before  dawn.  She  could 
hear  Cornelia  bustling  about  in  the  living  room,  but  she 
stayed  in  bed  a  little  longer  to  luxuriate  in  memories  of  the 
preceding  night. 

She  got  lightly  out  of  bed  and  stood  before  the  mirror 
over  the  chiffonier.  But  she  was  less  preoccupied  with  the 
image  in  the  looking  glass  than  with  mental  pictures  of  the 
night  before. 

In  the  bright  light  of  day,  the  glamour  of  some  of 
these  pictures  took  on  the  effect  of  tinsel.  But  Janet  could 
still  thrill  to  the  excitement  of  the  raid  on  the  Lyceum, 
the  pell-mell  escape,  the  violent  dispersal  of  the  mobs  in 
Murray  Hill  and  the  hurried  collection  of  a  troop  of  Out- 
law refugees  and  their  nocturnal  march  through  Kips  Bay 
streets  under  the  leadership  of  Claude  Fontaine.  It  had 
been  a  very  festive  troop,  swelled  by  stragglers  all  the  way 
to  the  Lorillard  tenements,  where  the  party  camped  in 
Charlotte  Beecher's  double  flat. 

Of  the  long  merrymaking  that  followed,  Janet  cared  to 
remember  only  the  occasions  when  Claude  Fontaine  was 
at  her  side  and  at  her  service.  How  vividly  she  could 
picture  him  in  the  dashing  part  of  Charles  Surface,  his 


88  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

handsome  face  tinted  with  rich,  young  blood,  and  his  eyes 
of  such  brightness  and  depth  that  surely  no  infamy  could 
ever  dull  them! 

A  knock  cut  this  day  dreaming  short. 

"How  do  you  do,  Araminta?"  said  Cornelia,  entering 
melodramatically.  "And  what  does  the  Sleeping  Beauty 
want  for  breakfast?" 

"I'm  hungry  enough  to  eat  sticks  and  stones  and  puppy- 
dog's  bones,"  replied  Janet.  "But  I  won't  murmur  if  you 
have  gentler  fare." 

As  Cornelia  insisted  that  dressing  should  be  deferred  until 
after  the  meal,  Janet  tripped  to  the  breakfast  table  in  her 
nightgown,  her  curly  hair  hanging  down  to  her  shoulders. 
Cornelia,  her  figure  lapped  precariously  in  a  simple  dress, 
which  she  had  made  and  pinned  together  at  a  cost  of  fifty 
cents  all  told,  sat  down  opposite  her  young  guest. 

"This  is  a  picnic!"  exclaimed  Janet.  She  was  filled  with 
glee  at  the  wrapping  paper  neatly  spread  out  in  place  of  a 
table  cloth,  at  the  cups,  saucers  and  dishes  all  made  of 
agateware,  and  at  the  compressed  paper  plates  for  the 
slices  of  bread. 

''Well,  it  isn't  a  Barmecide's  feast,  by  any  means,"  said 
Cornelia,  who  was  amused  at  Janet's  artless  joy.  "The 
plates  may  be  made  of  paper,  but  they  are  fresh  and  so 
are  the  eggs  and  bacon." 

She  set  these  articles  on  the  table. 

"All  the  principal  dishes  are  of  agateware,"  she  said, 
in  answer  to  a  question  of  Janet's.  "I've  got  four  of 
everything  necessary — four  cups,  four  saucers,  four  glasses, 
four  knives,  four  spoons,  and  so  on.  But  don't  imagine 
that  we  have  wrapping  paper  for  a  table  cloth  every  day. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  89 

Dear,  no!  That's  only  for  guests  of  honor  and  on  Sundays. 
On  week  days  we  use  newspapers." 

"That's  a  novel  way  of  taking  one's  newspaper  with  one's 
meal." 

"Oh,  it's  old  news.  I  always  use  the  newspaper  of  a 
week  ago.  And  it's  curious  how  often  I  run  across  some 
interesting  bit  of  politics  or  scandal  that  escaped  me  a  week 
before.  Sometimes,  while  devouring  a  roll,  I  catch  myself 
in  the  midst  of  a  slobbery  article  by  Hutchins  Burley  in 
the -Evening  Chronicle.  The  wretch  is  running  a  series  of 
articles  called :  'The  Soul  of  Woman  under  Freedom.' " 

She  gave  Janet  a  circumstantial  report  of  the  encounter 
with  Burley  during  the  night.  Janet  followed  this  narra- 
tive with  sympathetic  interest,  and  wished  that  she  and 
Claude  had  arrived  in  time  to  prevent  the  occurrence. 

"But  then  your  knight-errant  would  have  missed  his 
opportunity,"  she  said. 

"Think  of  the  loss!  By  the  way,  I  met  him  this  morning, 
Araminta." 

"In  ambush  at  the  door?" 

"No,  in  the  hallway  downstairs.  I  had  gone  out  for  some 
cream.  On  my  way  back  I  ran  right  into  his  arms." 

"With  what  result?" 

"Very  little.  He  exhausted  his  eloquence  in  stammers 
and  deaf  mute  lingo.  And  when  I  thanked  him  again  for 
last  night's  service,  he  promptly  took  to  his  heels.  It  was 
cruel." 

"The  course  of  true  love  always  is,  Cornelia." 

Cornelia,  pleased  at  the  implied  assumption  that  she  had 
inspired  a  romance,  dwelt  with  gusto  on  the  hero's  exploit. 
For  the  fiftieth  time  she  described  the  skill  and  celerity 


90  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

with  which  "the  physical  culture  expert"  had  propelled 
Burley  from  the  apartment. 

"At  the  Outlaws'  Ball,  Mr.  Burley  called  Claude  a  dia- 
mond smuggler,"  said  Janet,  by  way  of  changing  the  sub- 
ject. "What  did  he  mean?  Do  people  accuse  the  Fontaines 
of  smuggling?" 

"I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing,"  replied  Cornelia.  "Mer- 
chant princes  like  the  Fontaines  would  hardly  stoop  to 
that.  Besides,  it  wouldn't  pay  them.  Did  Claude  notice?" 

"Yes,  and  he  seemed  to  mind  it  very  much.  His  whole 
appearance  changed  as  if  he  had  been  stung  into  sudden 
fury.  But  he  controlled  himself  bravely." 

"What  else  could  he  do  with  the  belle  of  the  ball  at  his 
side?  He's  always  a  man  of  the  world — when  in  the 
world." 

"But  not  in  private?"  asked  Janet,  anxious  to  get  to 
the  bottom  of  this  veiled  aspersion.  Cornelia's  reply  was 
evasive. 

"A  fine  summer's  day  will  often  end  in  a  burst  of  terrify- 
ing thunder  and  lightning,"  she  said.  "Lothario  has  plenty 
of  good  looks  and  plenty  of  temper.  A  man  who  is  accus- 
tomed to  find  people  submitting  to  his  will,  easily  gets 
indignant  when  he  meets  with  opposition." 

She  sighed  as  if  she  could  tell  much  more  about  Claude 
Fontaine  if  she  chose. 

"Well,  I  don't  blame  him  for  getting  enraged  at  the 
abuse  of  that  horrible  man,"  said  Janet,  sturdily  defending 
him. 

"Nor  do  I.  Once  in  a  while  a  thunderbolt  will  strike  the 
wicked  as  well  as  the  good,  won't  it?  Claude  was  quite 
justified  this  time,  no  doubt." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  91 

"How  does  he  happen  to  come  among  the  Outlaws,  Cor- 
nelia? He  doesn't  seem  to  belong  to  them  exactly." 

"He  doesn't  pretend  to.  He  walks  among  us  humble 
tenementers  like  a  god  among  his  creatures.  Distinctly  like 
a  god,  Araminta.  That's  the  footing  on  which  he  associates 
with  mere  human  beings." 

"Yet  he's  hail  fellow  well  met  with  Robert  and  Mazie  and 
the  others,"  protested  Janet. 

"Ah,  yes,  but  don't  let  that  deceive  you.  Jupiter  was 
hail  fellow  well  met  with  many  a  mortal,  especially  with 
many  a  mortal  maiden.  You  remember  that  he  visited  one 
earthly  princess  in  a  shower  of  gold.  That  is  what  Claude 
does.  He  visits  the  model  tenements  in — or  perhaps  I 
should  say  with — a  shower  of  gold.  I  mean,"  she  added, 
"he  doesn't  think  of  marriage  with  a  girl  on  Mazie's  level. 
Nor  with  a  girl  on  yours  or  mine." 

This  shaft  did  not  miss  its  mark.  But  it  perplexed  Janet 
more  than  it  wounded  her. 

"I  thought  that  made  no  difference  to  you,"  she  said, 
for  she  had  already  been  favored  with  some  of  Cornelia's 
destructive  criticism  of  the  institution  of  marriage. 

"It  makes  no  difference  to  me,"  said  Cornelia.  "But  in 
this  stifling  room  I  can't  explain  myself  as  I'd  like  to.  The 
spacious  blue  skies  and  the  free  pure  air  of  the  Hudson 
will  be  a  more  fitting  background  for  the  story  I'd  like  to 
tell  you.  Put  on  your  things,  Araminta,  and  we'll  go  for 
a  charming  ride." 

Janet  dressed  with  promptness  and  pleasure.  She  ap- 
peared to  have  forgotten  that  Robert  Lloyd  had  particularly 
said  that  he  was  coming  about  noon  ifl  order  to  take  her 
home.  Her  friend  did  not  remind  hef.  The  knowledge 


92  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

that  Robert  would  go  away  in  bitter  disappointment  robbed 
the  outing  of  none  of  its  zest,  so  far  as  Cornelia  was  con- 
cerned. 

Claude,  too,  had  promised  to  drop  in  at  Number  Fifteen. 
This  promise  Janet  bore  well  in  mind.  But  as  his  visit 
was  not  to  take  place  until  late  in  the  afternoon  and  there 
was  thus  no  danger  of  missing  him,  she  joined  Cornelia 
with  enthusiasm. 


n 

At  the  corner  of  Thirty-fourth  Street  and  Second  Avenue, 
where  Kips  Bay  edges  its  dingy  little  proletarian  stores  into 
bourgeois  respectability,  the  two  young  women  entered  a 
car  bound  for  the  West  Twenty-third  Street  ferry.  It  pro- 
ceeded at  a  jog  trot  along  Second  Avenue  to  Twenty-third 
Street  where  it  struck  the  cross-town  line  west. 

Janet  felt  no  annoyance  at  the  snail's  pace  from  which 
the  car  never  departed.  Manhattan  was  still  a  novelty  to 
her,  and  this  section  of  the  East  Side  was  wholly  new. 

But  Cornelia  made  unflattering  comparison  between  the 
surface  conveyances  in  Manhattan  and  the  bus  transporta- 
tion which  Londoners  and  Parisians  enjoyed.  She  was 
annoyed  by  the  complacency  that  New  Yorkers  displayed 
toward  their  street-car  service  and  the  petty  provincialism 
that  actually  led  them  to  believe  this  service  to  be  the 
fastest  in  the  world,  when  in  fact  it  was  the  slowest.  At 
the  climax  of  her  irritation  she  gave  Janet  the  benefit  of 
one  of  Robert  Lloyd's  epigrams.  Robert  had  once  said 
that  New  York  "rapid  transit,"  as  it  was  optimistically 
called,  was  the  organized  effort  of  the  local  traction  mag- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  93 

nates  to  annihilate  the  specific  advantages  of  modern  elec- 
trical machinery.  Cornelia  did  not  doubt  that  in  this  effort 
they  had  triumphed. 

The  jolts  with  which  the  car  came  to  a  standstill  at  each 
successive  street  crossing,  and  the  jerks  with  which  it  re- 
sumed its  languid  pace  again,  would  ordinarily  have  frazzled 
her  nerves  for  the  day.  This  time,  however,  she  bore  the 
ordeal  much  more  composedly.  For  one  thing,  Janet's  calm 
spirit  had  a  soothing  influence  upon  her.  For  another,  it 
amused  her  mightily  to  have  so  unsophisticated  a  com- 
panion to  point  out  the  sights  to.  She  caused  Janet  to 
observe  the  Italian  district  with  its  macaroni  dens  along 
the  cross  streets,  the  Armenian  district  with  the  Eastern 
restaurants  parading  strange  Greek-lettered  names,  and 
Kips  Bay's  fashionable  western  fringe  with  its  Madison 
Avenue  hotels,  stores  and  residential  palaces. 

Janet  drank  it  all  in  thirstily.  Not  for  a  moment  did 
she  regret  the  defiance  she  had  flung  at  her  mother's  wishes 
by  going  to  the  Outlaws'  Ball.  On  the  contrary,  this  act 
of  insurgency  appeared  to  have  heightened  her  perception 
as  much  as  it  had  strengthened  her  self-esteem.  She  saw 
things  with  different  eyes,  or  believed  she  did.  The  people 
and  the  shops  fairly  brandished  a  life  and  reality  totally 
new  to  her  experience.  She  longed  to  be  more  than  a  mere 
spectator  in  the  tumultuous  scene  unfolded  before  her.  She 
would  have  given  anything  to  be  even  a  cog — an  active  cog 
— in  this  giant  metropolis  whose  roar  and  grime  possessed 
an  immense  attraction. 

At  the  North  River  they  left  the  car.  Three  big  ferry 
houses  confronted  them  and  Cornelia  was  undecided  which 
to  take.  It  was  a  grave  question  in  her  mind,  for  she  staged 


94  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

the  big  scenes  of  her  life  with  as  much  care  as  a  play 
producer.  The  artist  in  her  at  once  eliminated  the  Erie 
ferry. 

"The  Erie  boats  are  too  dinky,"  she  said.  "Shall  we  take 
the  Jersey  Central  or  the  Lackawanna?" 

"Let's  take  the  one  that  gives  the  longest  ride,"  said 
Janet,  for  whom  the  smell  of  the  river  quickly  cut  such 
minor  esthetic  knots. 

Cornelia's  first  and  invariable  impulse  towards  any  pro- 
posal made  by  another  person  was  to  turn  it  down.  The 
reasons  she  gave  for  doing  so  were  usually  quite  plausible, 
though  sometimes  cast  in  a  rather  theatrical  style. 

"The  Jersey's  trip  is  a  little  longer,"  she  said,  "but  the 
difference  is  slight.  The  Lackawanna  appeals  to  me  more. 
Lackawanna!  Don't  you  love  the  music  in  that  name? 
Besides,  Araminta,  the  Jersey  boats  are  painted  a  sickly 
gray,  while  the  Lackawanna  boats  are  maroon.  A  wonder- 
ful maroon!  And  they  have  a  glorious  seat  on  the  upper 
deck,  directly  facing  the  bow." 

"Very  well,  let's  take  the  Lackawanna,"  said  Janet,  to 
whom  it  was  all  one. 

They  were  soon  ensconced  hi  the  very  seat  on  the  top 
deck  which  Cornelia  coveted. 

But  if  Janet  had  any  hopes  of  hearing  a  great  deal  more 
about  Claude  Fontaine,  she  was  soon  disillusioned.  She 
did  not  yet  understand  her  friend,  to  whom  the  world  was 
an  audience  at  a  stage  play  in  which  Cornelia  Covert  had 
the  star  part.  She  speedily  learned  that  Cornelia  had  not 
gone  to  all  this  trouble  to  analyze  the  love  affairs  of  other 
people.  No.  The  moment  had  been  chosen  and  the  stage 
had  been  set  to  make  Janet  the  recipient  of  the  sacred 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  95 

narrative  of  Cornelia's  experience  with  Percival  Houghton. 

The  tale  did  not  begin  until  the  boat  was  well  under 
way,  so  that  Janet  had  an  opportunity  to  revel  in  the  swell 
of  the  mighty  Hudson  and  to  contrast  the  differing  aspects 
of  the  two  banks.  The  Palisaded  Jersey  side  was  almost 
hidden  by  huge  ocean  steamers,  except  at  the  spot  where 
the  Castle  Point  Terrace  of  Stevens  Institute  rose  serenely 
above  a  forest  of  quivering  masts. 

Janet  thought  the  heights  of  Hoboken  quite  dwarfed  by 
the  towering  office  structures  of  lower  Manhattan.  Cornelia 
interrupted  her  ineffable  story  long  enough  to  repeat 
another  opinion  of  Robert's  without  acknowledgment.  It 
was  to  the  effect  that  the  commercial  skyscrapers  on  the 
Hudson  were  as  grimly  symbolic  of  ownership  as  the  castles 
that  overlooked  the  Rhine.  Did  Janet  realize  that  the  lords 
of  these  skyscraping  fortresses  were  the  masters  of  the 
river  and  thus  of  the  country  on  which  the  river's  port  had 
a  strangle  hold?  In  each  of  the  big  business  edifices, 
thousands  of  mercantile  retainers  served  their  liege  lords 
with  pen  or  typewriter  as  industriously  as  ever  men-at-arms 
flourished  crossbow  or  arquebus  in  the  brave  days  of  old. 
Only,  the  economic  factor  in  the  comparison  was  all  in 
favor  of  the  industrial  barons  of  today.  Their  armies, 
opulence  and  power  were  of  a  magnitude  that  would  have 
caused  the  robber  barons  of  the  Rhine  to  expire  with  envy. 

m 

With  these  brief  interruptions,  Cornelia  pursued  the 
even  tenor  of  the  story  whose  narration  was  the  seal  and 
token  of  her  friendship.  What  moved  her  to  tell  it  to 
Janet  was  not  the  idea  of  self-defence,  or  the  hope  of 


96  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

softening  the  shock  a  friend  might  receive  on  learning  the 
details  from  a  hostile  critic.  Quite  the  contrary.  She  was 
inordinately  proud  of  her  intimate  connection  with  a  man 
as  famous  as  Percival  Houghton;  and  she  was  altogether 
anxious  that  her  friends  should  know  of  this  connection  in 
the  form  in  which  she  wished  it  to  be  known  and  hoped  to 
make  it  remembered. 

:Two  years  had  passed,  she  told  Janet,  since  Percival 
Houghton  came  to  the  United  States.  He  was  a  young 
Englishman,  well  connected,  who  had  gained  an  immense 
vogue  as  an  illustrator.  He  was  said  to  have  "isolated" 
several  rare  types  of  French  and  English  female  beauty, 
and  fabulous  sums  had  been  paid  for  his  portrait  studies 
in  pastel.  His  press  agent  having  in  advance  widely 
advertised  the  artist's  announced  purpose  of  adding  the 
American  girl  to  his  pictorial  conquests,  his  arrival  was 
extremely  good  copy  for  the  newspapers. 

(Hutchins  Burley,  with  an  eye  to  the  Evening  Chronicle's 
large  feminine  clientele,  did  not  let  the  opportunity  slip  by. 
He  assigned  Cornelia,  then  attached  to  his  paper,  to  inter- 
view the  ambitious  Englishman.  In  her  own  words,  "she 
went,  she  saw,  she  conquered." 

After  the  flattering  notice  in  the  Chronicle,  Percival 
Houghton  sought  her  out  and  attended  her  devotedly. 
Cornelia  dwelt  on  the  warm  friendship  that  sprang  up 
between  them  and  on  her  own  quick  subjection  to  his  great 
personal  charm. 

"He  was  a  wonderful  man,  Araminta.  He  had  a  great 
leonine  head  with  wild  flowing  locks;  there  was  fire  in  his 
eye  and  music  in  his  voice;  and  he  had  that  imperious  way 
with  him  that  opens  a  path  straight  to  a  woman's  heart." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  97 

The  week  before  his  departure,  he  made  an  avowal  of 
his  passion.  And  she  was  in  a  paradise  of  ecstasy  until 
the  next  day,  when  he  sent  her  by  mail  a  piece  of  informa- 
tion he  had  not  had  the  courage  to  give  her  in  person.  He 
confessed  to  a  wife  and  two  children  living  in  England. 
In  a  moment  of  impetuous  boyish  idealism — like  Shelley's, 
he  said  —  he  had  married  a  girl  who  was  intellectually 
(though  not  financially)  his  inferior.  Worst  of  all,  she 
shared  none  of  his  tastes  or  aspirations.  He  assured  Cor- 
nelia that  every  day  of  his  married  existence  had  been  a 
lifetime  of  exquisite  torture. 

This  confession,  Janet  heard,  was  the  prelude  to  many 
hours  of  bitter  torment.  Cornelia  said  that  the  one  good 
outcome  of  this  evil  period  was  that  she  began  to  think  of 
the  realities  of  life  for  the  first  time.  She  was  led  to 
question  the  moral  conventions  which  she  had  always  taken 
for  granted  and  which,  she  now  saw,  encrusted  the  conduct 
of  most  of  the  people  around  her.  Under  the  tutelage  of 
Percival  Houghton,  who  proclaimed  himself  a  free  thinker, 
as  well  as  a  free  lover,  she  became  alive  to  the  absurdity 
of  regarding  the  conventions  of  an  age  as  immutable  laws 
for  all  time. 

Naturally,  at  this  time,  her  logic  was  concentrated  on 
the  convention  of  marriage. 

Percival  read  out  many  passages  from  the  great  writers 
of  today — continued  Cornelia — from  Galsworthy,  H.  G. 
Wells,  Havelock  Ellis  and  Gilbert  Cannan;  and  these  pas- 
sages exposed  the  unalterable  belief  of  the  writers  that 
marriage,  in  its  existing  form,  was  wrong,  conclusively  and 
crushingly  wrong. 

Wrong,  she  hastened  to  explain,  in  so  far  as  it  was  a 


98  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

contract  that  was  held  to  be  binding  even  after  the  death 
of  the  love  on  which  the  contract  was  based. 

She  developed  the  logic  of  the  situation  at  some  length 
in  arguments  with  which  Janet  was  greatly  impressed. 

"You  own  mother  and  father  hate  each  other,  Janet,"  she 
pointed  out.  "The  result  is  the  cat-and-dog,  bite-one- 
another's-head-off  relationship  that  passes  for  family  life 
in  your  home.  Do  you  see?" 

Janet  saw,  or  thought  she  saw.  Anything  that  could 
plausibly  be  shown  to  be  responsible  for  family  life  among 
the  Barrs  was  sure  to  receive  her  cordial  detestation.  Cor- 
nelia, certain  of  her  auditor's  sympathy,  continued  her  story. 

Percival  Houghton's  solution  of  the  difficulty  caused  by 
his  rash  attachment  was  a  highly  quixotic  one.  He  pro- 
posed that  Cornelia  accompany  him  to  England,  so  that 
they  might  together  lay  the  facts  before  his  wife  and  beg 
her  to  sue  for  a  divorce  after  he  had  furnished  her  with 
funds  and  with  technical  grounds  for  the  suit.  They  were 
to  be  open  and  aboveboard  in  urging  the  right  of  true 
lovers  to  be  free  from  all  the  shackles  of  law  and  tradition. 
His  wife  was  not  ungenerous,  he  declared.  Moreover,  she 
had  never  really  loved  him;  and  he  persuaded  himself  and 
Cornelia  that,  face  to  face  with  an  overwhelming  passion, 
she  would  readily  consent  to  an  act  that  was  to  liberate 
three  lives. 

This,  he  insisted,  was  the  only  honorable  course  to 
pursue.  It  had  the  precedent  of  such  great  names  as  Ruskin 
and  Millais.  Besides,  it  was  the  only  course  that  would 
not  seriously  affect  his  career  or  completely  cut  him  off 
from  his  children. 

What  could  Cornelia  do  but  yield?    He  engaged  passage 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  99 

to  England  for  two,  and — she  emphasized  this  detail  again 
and  again  —  though  they  occupied  the  same  stateroom, 
their  union  was  a  union  of  two  souls  and  nothing  more. 

Without  giving  Janet  time  to  grasp  the  logic  of  this 
behavior  or  of  its  explanation,  she  continued: 

"Percival  said  it  behooved  us  to  show  that  free  love 
could  rise  above  the  lustful  impulses  of  the  flesh.  We 
were  to  come  to  each  other  clean,  so  as  not  to  do  the  cause 
of  free  love  an  injury." 

England  had  been  the  Paradise  of  her  hopes,  but  it 
proved  their  sepulchre.  Scarcely  had  they  docked  in  the 
Mersey  when  reporters  representing  news  associations  ac- 
costed them  for  information  about  their  "elopement."  The 
news  had  been  cabled  from  New  York,  where  they  were 
featured  as  "elective  affinities."  In  London,  too,  they 
found  themselves  headliners  in  the  yellow  journals.  Need- 
less to  say,  the  most  extreme  construction  was  put  on  their 
journey  together.  And  the  escapade  of  "affinity  Houghton" 
became  an  international  sensation. 

"How  did  it  leak  out,  Cornelia?"  exclaimed  Janet.  "Had 
you  told  anyone  you  were  going  together?" 

"Not  a  soul.  But  my  connection  with  a  newspaper  was 
fatal.  A  woman  journalist  is  subject  to  more  gossip  than 
an  actress.  Every  time  she's  seen  with  a  new  man,  she's 
reported  to  have  ensnared  a  new  lover." 

As  a  result  of  this  glaring  notoriety,  Cornelia  went  on, 
Houghton's  manner  toward  her  underwent  a  radical  change. 
He  remained  kind  and  courteous,  but  his  manner  grew  cool. 
He  urged  one  pretext  after  another  for  postponing  what  was 
to  have  been  a  historic  interview  with  his  wife.  In  London 
he  took  her  to  a  hotel  and  left  her  there  alone. 


100  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Two  days  later  she  received  a  letter  from  him,  in  which 
he  said  that  his  wife  was  unalterably  resolved  to  contest  a 
divorce  on  any  ground,  and  that  the  newspaper  gossip  had 
almost  irretrievably  injured  his  prospects.  He  added 
that  he  was  as  devoted  to  her  as  ever.  He  was,  in  fact, 
broken-hearted,  but  his  clear  duty  to  his  family,  his 
children  and  his  career  demanded  that  they  should  never 
meet  again. 

In  spite  of  this  note  she  made  several  attempts  to  see 
him  once  more.  She  confessed  to  Janet  that  she  had  been 
ready  to  accept  any  terms  he  might  make,  if  only  he  agreed 
not  to  part  from  her  forever.  It  was  for  love  and  not  for 
marriage  that  she  had  sacrificed  herself.  It  was  not  mar- 
riage but  love  that  she  demanded.  But  he  sustained  his 
pitilessly  inflexible  attitude.  Almost  prostrated  by  the 
notoriety  which  the  experience  had  thrust  upon  her,  she 
made  a  heart-broken  return  to  the  United  States. 

"I  landed  in  New  York  without  hope,  without  health,  and 
without  a  home,"  said  Cornelia,  dramatically.  "But  I  had 
vindicated  my  belief  that  love  should  be  free." 

To  forestall  a  social  boycott,  she  had  proudly  decided  to 
shun  all  her  former  friends.  To  this  end  she  rented  a  flat 
in  the  Lorillard  tenements.  And  here  she  had  remained 
in  eclipse,  and  in  receipt  of  a  small  allowance  from  a  brother 
who  was  a  leading  politician  in  a  Western  State. 

Latterly,  old  friends  of  hers,  members  of  the  fellowship 
of  Outlaws,  had  drifted  into  her  rooms  in  Kips  Bay;  and 
so  she  had  been  dragged — unwillingly,  she  alleged — from 
her  retirement. 

She  asserted  that  she  had  no  ill-will  for  Percival  Hough- 
ton,  who  would  always  be  the  one  man  in  the  world  for  her. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  101 

After  all,  he  had  sold  his  birthright  for  a  marriage  of  con- 
venience, and  he  might  well  feel  that  he  ought  to  stick  to 
his  bargain,  cost  what  it  might.  She  was  persuaded  that 
his  coldness  to  her  in  London  was  merely  an  iron  vizor 
clamped  upon  his  real  feelings  by  the  ruthless  institution 
of  matrimony.  She  also  appeared  to  derive  some  comfort 
from  the  thought  that  though  he  was  "a  soul  pirate," 
though  he  had  "stolen  her  soul,"  his  own  had  been  damned 
in  the  process. 

"Yet  I  shall  always  love  him,"  she  said,  with  tragic 
resignation.  "I  shall  never  love  anyone  else.  And  I  shall 
never  marry.  I've  suffered  enough  from  marriage  as  it  is." 

The  ferryboat  docked  at  the  Lackawanna  Station. 
Janet,  who  had  been  lost  in  a  reverie,  mechanically  followed 
her  companion's  suggestion  that  they  take  the  same  boat 
back.  Cornelia's  story  —  the  vivid  story  of  one  of  the 
principals  —  had  a  very  different  coloring  from  the  account 
of  the  "affinity  Houghton"  scandal  which  had  filled  the 
front  pages  of  the  evening  newspapers  two  years  ago. 
Janet  could  still  recollect  the  headlines,  the  pictures,  and 
the  expansive  gossip;  also  the  strange  mixture  of  curiosity 

id  pious  disgust  with  which  she  had  followed  the  reports. 

Could  the  horrified  Janet  Barr  of  that  dimly  remembered 
time  be  the  same  girl  who  was  now  sitting  in  the  closest 
itimacy  beside  the  leading  female  in  the  case? 

On  the  return  across  the  river,  Janet  had  several  ques- 
tions on  the  tip  of  her  tongue,  but  Cornelia's  manner  seemed 

discourage  inquiries  of  a  too  personal  kind.  However, 
fanet  did  get  in: 

"What  was  Percival  Houghton's  excuse  for  refusing  to 
you  once  more?" 


102  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"He  said  we  could  meet  only  in  secret;  but  that  any 
continuation  of  the  secrecy  was  more  than  he  could  endure. 

"Do  you  think  that  excuse  rings  true?" 

"Why  not?  I  suppose  I  should  say  it  rings  falsely  true, 
as  faith  unfaithful  always  does." 

"I  think  it  was  the  evasion  of  a  coward." 

"Perhaps.  But,  Araminta,  all  men  are  cowards,  moral 
cowards,  I  mean.  They  face  bullets  sublimely,  but  they 
shiver  and  shake  before  an  argument.  They  gayly  lose 
their  lives  for  a  hunting  trophy  or  a  football  triumph,  but 
they  can't  bear  to  lose  their  dinners  for  a  belief." 

Janet,  thinking  of  her  father,  was  inclined  to  agree  with 
this  view. 

"Is  that  why  men  let  women  keep  up   the  marriage 

system?" 

"My  dear,  it  isn't  the  women  who  keep  up  the  marriage 
system.  It's  the  men!  Women  just  fall  into  a  system 
that's  ready  made  for  them.  Most  women  are  all  body 
and  no  soul.  Give  them  the  choice  between  marriage, 
which  provides  for  the  body  while  starving  the  soul,  and 
some  other  condition  which  provides  for  the  soul  while 
starving  the  body,  and  of  course  they'll  choose  marriage. 
They  prefer  to  hold  a  man  by  his  lusts  rather  than  by  his 
spiritual  impulses.  But  the  men  keep  the  system  up,  my 
dear.  Because  of  the  children  they  want." 

"But,  Cornelia,  I  thought  it  was  the  women  who  wanted 
children!" 

"So  we  do.  We  want  them  because  life  demands  them 
through  us;  for  are  we  not  the  mothers  of  the  race?  But 
that  is  not  the  men's  reason.  It  isn't  the  race  that  is 
calling  through  them  for  immortality.  Heavens  no!  It's 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  103 

their  boundless  male  egotism.  And  since  they  know  that 
they  can't  live  forever  in  their  own  selfish  little  bodies, 
they  hope  to  get  a  new  lease  of  life  in  the  bodies  of  their 
sons.  That  is  why  they  have  built  up  an  institution  in 
which  they  can  keep  their  women  wedlocked  and  can  make 
sure  that  their  children  are  their  own." 

"But  perhaps  marriage  is  necessary  for  the  children, 
Cornelia.  They  are  the  better  off  for  it,  at  least  when 
they  are  very  young." 

"Are  you  so  sure?  Remember,  loveless  marriages  seldom 
result  in  healthy  offspring.  Look  at  Percival  Houghton's 
two  children.  One  is  a  girl  with  hip  disease,  the  other  is 
a  feeble-minded,  flabby  anaemic  boy.  Yet  the  parents 
are  both  physically  sound.  Do  you  think  7  would  have 
had  such  children?" 

Her  vehemence  was  over-awing,  almost  over-bearing. 

"I'm  not  sure  I  can  judge  from  one  case,  Cornelia,"  said 
Janet,  her  firm  voice  and  clear  distinct  utterance  betraying 
a  will  of  her  own.  "But  I'm  sure  that  people  who  marry 
and  find  that  they  are  mistaken  in  each  other,  ought  to 
be  able  to  rectify  the  mistake.  It's  horrible  to  think  that 
they  can't." 

"Ah!  Now  you've  come  to  it.  If  people  find  that  they 
are  mistaken  in  their  butchers  or  grocers,  they  experiment 
until  they  find  the  right  one.  They  won't  go  on  eating  bad 
steaks  forever  because  luck  or  inexperience  landed  them  in 
a  poor  shop  at  the  first  try.  But  do  they  take  as  much 
trouble  to  get  the  right  husband  or  wife  as  they  do  to  get 
the  right  mutton  chop?  They  don't.  Whatever  partner 
luck  or  inexperience  hands  them  at  the  altar,  they  put  up 
with  for  the  rest  of  their  lives." 


104  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"I  wonder  why  we  don't  experiment  in  marriage  as  in 
all  other  matters?"  asked  Janet  thoughtfully. 

"My  dear,  it's  been  proposed  often  enough.  By  men, 
of  course.  You  are  too  young  to  remember  the  furor  that 
followed  when  George  Meredith  proposed  trial  marriages. 
It's  an  easy  thing  for  the  men  to  propose,  since  it's  the 
women  who  must  risk  the  beginning.  The  question  is,  who 
is  to  begin?  The  plain  women  daren't,  because  the  risk 
is  too  great;  and  the  fascinating  women  needn't,  because 
they  get  what  they  want  anyway,  within  the  law  or  beyond 
it.  Now  if  ever  girls  like  you,  Araminta,  on  whom  the  eye 
rests  with  delight,  began  to  experiment — " 

"What  then?" 

"Oh,  I've  no  right  to  urge  my  views  on  individuals. 
Besides,  you  are  far  too  young  and  inexperienced,  my  dear, 
to  be  one  of  the  first.  Though  I'm  sure  nothing  would 
suit  men  like  Claude  Fontaine  better." 

"There,  Cornelia,  you're  making  innuendos  about  Mr. 
Fontaine  again,"  said  Janet.  "It  isn't  fair.  If  you  mean 
to  take  me  into  your  confidence  at  all,  you  might  do  it  all 
the  way  through." 

"Not  another  word  will  you  get  out  of  me  now,  Ara- 
minta," replied  Cornelia,  with  one  of  the  queer  laughs  she 
gave  whenever  she  blocked  people's  wishes. 

However,  fearing  to  weaken  the  hold  she  had  upon  Janet, 
she  added: 

"I'm  too  famished  to  talk.  Here  we  are,  landing  at  last. 
Come,  we'll  get  a  nice  lunch.  I  know  you're  dying  to  talk 
about  the  irresistible  Claude.  I  promise  to  tell  you  Lotha- 
rio's whole  history  over  our  cups  of  tea." 

Janet  begged  to  be  taken  to  the  Y.  W.  C.  A.  Cafeteria, 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  105 

whose  good  food,  self-service  and  picturesque  quarters  she 
had  heard  Cornelia  extol.  When  they  reached  the  restau- 
rant, they  saw  a  very  long  line  of  waiting  customers. 

"This  w'ill  never  do,"  said  Cornelia,  disgustedly.  And, 
quite  unwilling  to  sacrifice  comfort  in  the  cause  of  self- 
service,  she  dragged  the  reluctant  Janet  to  a  French 
pastry  restaurant  on  Fifth  Avenue. 

"I  do  like  a  waiter  and  a  table  cloth,"  said  Cornelia,  as 
she  contentedly  resigned  herself  to  these  dubious  luxuries. 
"And  I  don't  like  to  scramble  for  my  napkin  and  my  glass 
of  ice  water." 

"What  a  strange  thing  for  you  to  say,"  said  Janet, 
puzzled.  "It  sounds  as  though,  in  spite  of  your  advanced 
views,  you  might  at  heart  be  thoroughly  in  love  with  con- 
ventional ways." 

"Don't  put  such  ideas  into  your  head,  silly!"  said  Cor- 
nelia, giving  a  high-pitched,  self-conscious,  stagy  laugh, 
with  which  she  shut  off  further  personal  questions. 

During  lunch,  Cornelia  contrived  to  say  curiously  little 
about  Claude  Fontaine,  Janet  learning  hardly  anything  she 
did  not  already  know.  Claude  was  heir  to  the  great  Fon- 
taine jewelry  establishment.  He  was  a  social  swell.  He 
was  very  handsome.  And  he  was  trying  equally  hard  to 
dabble  in  modern  paintings  and  not  to  dabble  in  modern 
amours. 

His  success  in  both  attempts  was  dubious,  according  to 
Cornelia.  Particularly  in  the  matter  of  the  amours.  He 
was,  of  course,  the  greatest  catch  of  his  day.  In  his  own 
circle,  every  mother  had  marked  him  for  her  daughter. 
And  it  was  to  escape  the  conspiracies  of  matchmakers  that 
he  had  taken  up  with  the  Outlaws  in  the  model  tenements. 


106  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

In  their  unconventional  atmosphere,  he  had  hoped  to  move 
and  breathe  more  freely.  But  if  every  girl  in  his  own  set 
was  willing  to  become  his  wife,  every  girl  in  the  Lorillard 
tenements  seemed  willing  to  become  his  mistress. 

It  appeared  that  Mazie  Ross  had  been  particularly 
shameless  in  setting  herself  to  catch  Claude.  Somehow  or 
other,  the  conversation  pivoted  chiefly  on  Mazie,  her  self- 
ishness, her  neglect  of  her  fair  share  of  the  work  in  flat 
number  fifteen,  and  her  willingness  to  sell  herself.  This 
last  was  the  fault  which  Cornelia  proposed  to  take  most 
exception  to. 

"I  wish  I  could  get  rid  of  her,"  she  said.  "Then  you 
could  come  and  live  with  me,  Araminta.  It  would  be  like 
exchanging  a  room  that  smelled  of  last  night's  stale  flowers 
for  a  garden  perfumed  by  fresh  roses." 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 
I 

No  sooner  were  they  back  in  their  Lorillard  tenement, 
than  Robert  Lloyd  came  in. 

"Well,  Cato,  where  did  you  drop  from?"  said  Cornelia, 
who  was  lazily  tidying  up  the  rooms  while  Janet  was  doing 
the  breakfast  dishes. 

"From  the  Harlem  Gorilla  in  the  flat  next  door." 

"Really!     And  what  did  he  have  to  say?" 

"Not  much.  He  isn't  a  talker  like  me.  He's  a  doer.  He 
tried  to  explain  a  few  tricks  in  gymnastics  to  me.  But 
every  second  sentence  or  so  the  word  'Cornelia'  crept  into 
the  explanation.  It  was  decidedly  confusing." 

"Pray  what  has  the  word  'Cornelia'  to  do  with  the  sub- 
ject of  gymnastics?"  asked  the  owner  of  the  name. 

"Ah,  what!  I  asked  the  Gorilla  that  question  myself. 
But  he  simply  repeated  the  name  adoringly  and  looked  all 
sorts  of  unutterable  things.  Beware,  Cornelia.  He  thinks 
the  sun  rises  in  one  of  your  eyes  and  sets  hi  the  other. 
I  believe  he  is  planning  to  carry  you  off  by  main  force  to 
his  cave,  his  gymnasium  cave." 

"A  lot  he  is!  He  couldn't  carry  off  a  buttercup  against 
its  wishes.  Really,  Araminta,  he's  the  gentlest  and  shyest 
'wild  man'  you  ever  laid  eyes  on.  How  he  ever  came  to 
take  Gorilla  for  a  nickname,  I  can't  imagine." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Robert.  "But  don't  forget  that  he  has 
learnt  the  art  of  concentrating  his  enormous  strength  on 


108  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

one  or  two  crucial  points.  Certainly  he  treated  Hutchins 
Burley  to  a  good  exhibition  of  his  mastery,  didn't  he?  For 
all  that,  he's  a  very  singularly  gentle  sort  of  Hercules.  If 
I  had  to  provide  one  for  you,  Cornelia,  I'd  get  a  much  more 
ferocious  specimen,  if  only  to  pay  you  out  for  kiting  away 
with  Janet,  after  promising  me  you'd  both  stay  in.  I've 
been  waiting  for  you  since  noon." 

"Poor  Cato,  I'm  terribly  sorry.  In  the  excitement  of 
having  Janet  here,  I  clean  forgot  you  were  coming.  Wait- 
ing since  noon,  were  you,  poor  boyl  There's  devotion  for 
you,  Araminta.  Never  mind,  Rob.  Here  she  is,  now.  And 
all's  well  that  ends  well,  I  hope." 

'"I  thought  you'd  like  company  on  your  way  home, 
Janet,"  said  Robert  to  her  directly. 

"Thanks  very  much,"  said  Janet,  not  wishing  to  lose 
Robert  and  yet  not  caring  to  say  that  Claude  had  promised 
to  call  for  her,  if  he  could  possibly  get  away  from  business. 
Before  she  could  say  more,  Cornelia  interposed.  She  had 
not  expected  Robert  to  wait  and  had  not  quite  swallowed 
her  chagrin  over  this  surprise. 

"How  do  you  happen  to  be  off  duty,  Rob?"  she  asked. 
"Does  the  Evening  Chronicle  stop  work  for  you  on  Satur- 
days?" 

"No.  I've  stopped  work  for  the  Evening  Chronicle  on 
Saturdays  and  all  other  days." 

"What!     Don't  tell  me  Hutchins  has  discharged  you!" 

Cornelia  gave  up  the  last  pretense  of  working,  and  sank 
aghast  into  an  armchair. 

"I  didn't  give  him  a  chance.    I  discharged  myself." 
f  he  had — "  she  began,  setting  her  teeth  vindictively. 

"Exactly.      In  his  sober  moments,  Cornelia,   you  are 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  109 

apparently  the  only  mortal  soul  he  stands  in  some  fear  of. 
It  was  only  because  of  a  sneaking  affection  he  has  for  you 
that  he  hesitated  to  fire  me." 

"Well,  why  throw  a  good  bargain  away?" 

"A  nice  position  it  would  have  left  me  in.  That  of  an 
understrapper  for  Burley  to  play  cat  and  mouse  with.  Not 
if  I  know  it!  Burley  likes  to  torture  the  people  in  his 
power  as  much  as  you  do,  the  only  difference  being  that 
his  weapon  is  coarse  brutality  while  yours  is  insidious 
charm." 

"Your  comparisons,  Cato,  have  the  merit  of  being  as 
unambiguous  as  they  are  rude.  I  trust  you  gave  Hutchins 
Burley  the  benefit  of  a  few  of  them." 

"Oh,  no,  I  always  forgive  my  enemies.  Nothing  enrages 
them  more.  I  left  Hutchins  stunned.  But  I've  no  doubt 
he  recovered  in  time  to  appoint  the  successor  that  I  sent 
him." 

"That  you  sent  him?" 

"Yes.  You  don't  know  him,  but  Janet  does.  Janet,  do 
you  remember  the  tall,  thin,  aristocratic  chap  who  was 
always  mysteriously  turning  up  and  who  stopped  Burley 
at  the  tent?" 

"Of  course  I  do.  He  wore  a  quaint  stand-up  collar 
with  two  points  sticking  into  his  neck.  It  was  he  who 
warned  Claude  about  the  raid." 

"Oh,  did  he?  Well,  when  I  was  on  my  way  up  the 
stairs  here  at  noon,  he  suddenly  appeared,  like  a  ghost 
stepping  out  of  the  stone  wall.  It  gave  me  quite  a  start. 
I  asked  him  where  he  was  bound  for.  'Nowhere  in  par- 
ticular,' was  his  answer." 

Robert  had  got  to  talking  with  the  mysterious  one,  who 


110  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

confessed  that  he  had  just  rented  a  flat  in  the  model  tene- 
ments. On  Robert's  alluding  to  the  severance  of  his  con- 
nection with  the  Evening  Chronicle,  his  new  acquaintance 
had  asked  permission  to  apply  for  the  vacant  place.  He 
claimed  to  have  an  ear  for  news  and  remarked  casually 
that  information  was  always  drifting  his  way. 

"As  if  I  had  any  permission  to  give!"  continued  Robert. 
"I  warned  him  what  he'd  be  up  against  in  the  person  of 
Hutchins  Burley,  and  bade  him  Godspeed." 

"He's  either  a  detective  or  the  Prince  of  Zenda  in  dis- 
guise," said  Janet.  "Which  do  you  think,  Robert?" 

"From  the  speed  and  completeness  with  which  he  ob- 
literates himself,  I  should  favor  the  detective  theory.  On 
the  other  hand,  there's  his  get-up!  That  melancholy, 
drooping  mustache,  that  semi-clerical  collar,  and  that  comi- 
cal tip-tilted  chin!  The  fellow's  simply  unforgettable.  He 
must  be  a  prince  incognito." 

"Yes,  we'll  have  him  a  prince!"  exclaimed  Janet,  who, 
at  twenty-four,  had  a  normal  craving  for  romantic  illusion. 
"But  I  should  like  him  in  any  part." 

"A  prince!  Nonsense,  children!"  interjected  Cornelia, 
in  her  most  languid  cadences.  "He's  probably  a  burglar." 

"A  burglar!" 

"Certainly  not  a  detective.  Detectives  don't  obliterate 
themselves.  They  don't  know  how  to.  And  they  never 
look  like  princes  in  disguise.  They're  not  clever  enough. 
All  the  detectives  I  ever  saw  looked  like  butchers  on  a 
strike.  The  only  man,  rich,  skillful  and  bold  enough  to 
take  his  fellow  man  at  a  right  royal  disadvantage  is  a  first- 
class  burglar.  A  Raffles,  for  instance,  might  be  a  prince 
'incognito.' " 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  111 

Cornelia's  wits  could  work  brilliantly  under  the  stimulus 
of  a  new  friend  like  Janet. 

The  door  had  opened  while  she  was  speaking. 

"Here's  a  prince,  Araminta!"  she  continued,  in  the  same 
musical  vein.  "Not  incognito,  either,  to  judge  by  his 
handsome  motor  coat." 

Claude  Fontaine  came  in,  and  the  sheer  sweep  of  his 
personal  attractiveness  made  Cornelia's  slightly  ironic 
phrasing  sound  quite  empty.  Janet  thought  that  many  a 
titular  prince  might  be  glad  to  exchange  his  coat  of  arms 
for  Claude's  conquering  air. 

II 

Her  heart  beat  faster  for  more  reasons  than  this.  How 
was  she  to  let  Robert  down  gracefully  and  without  hurting 
his  feelings,  after  having  more  than  half  accepted  his  offer 
to  accompany  her  home? 

As  if  in  total  ignorance  of  her  dilemma,  Cornelia,  who 
had  begun  sketching  a  design  for  a  new  dress,  intoned: 

"Admirers  never  come  singly.  Choose  your  escort,  my 
dear.  Which  is  it  to  be?  Cato  and  the  subway  or  Lothario 
and  a  limousine?" 

They  all  dissembled  very  poorly. 

Claude,  who  had  not  expected  rivalry,  looked  displeased; 
Robert,  though  he  had  already  made  up  his  mind  to  with- 
draw, felt  uneasy;  and  Janet  stood  up  between  the  two 
young  men,  embarrassed  and  confused. 

Cornelia  alone  seemed  wholly  unmoved.  She  went  on 
sketching  imperturbably.  But  Robert  was  quite  certain 
that  she  was  not  unconscious  of  the  tableau.  Janet  broke 
the  painful  silence. 


112  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Let's  all  three  go  together,"  she  said,  with  one  of  her 
quick  graceful  gestures,  half  conciliatory,  half  pleading  in 
its  effect. 

"Certainly,  if  Robert  would  like  to  come,"  said  Claude, 
politely,  but  without  enthusiasm. 

Robert  declined  promptly.  He  explained  that  he  had 
really  been  free  only  for  the  morning,  and  that,  as  long  as 
Claude  was  to  see  Janet  home,  he  had  better  utilize  the 
late  afternoon  to  hunt  up  another  position.  There  were 
newspaper  offices  at  which  he  ought  to  call.  Before  supper, 
he  had  a  speech  to  rehearse.  Perhaps  Cornelia  would  be 
good  enough  to  let  him  say  it  over  to  her. 

"What  kind  of  a  speech  am  I  letting  myself  in  for?" 
asked  Cornelia,  half  flattered,  half  nettled. 

"Wait  till  you  hear  it." 

"A  sermon,  I'll  be  bound,"  chanted  this  languid  lady. 

Yet,  not  at  all  languidly,  she  put  her  sketch  aside  and 
rose,  adding: 

"A  sermon  from  Cato  is  as  sweet  as  a  billet-doux  from 
any  other  man.  Come,  Araminta,  let's  show  these  men 
how  quickly  we  can  get  ready." 

They  went  into  Cornelia's  bedroom,  leaving  the  two  men 
alone.  Claude  said: 

"What's  this  about  hunting  up  a  new  position?" 

Robert  recounted  his  farewell  interview  with  Hutchins 
Burley. 

"You're  well  rid  of  him,"  said  Claude.  "What  do  ycu 
think  the  swine  called  me  at  the  ball?  A  diamond  smug- 
gler. In  front  of  everybody,  mind  you!" 

He  paced  the  room  indignantly. 

"I  tell  you,  Rob,  if  these  were  the  good  old  days  of 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  113 

duelling,  I'd  have  run  his  fat  carcass  through  with  a  rapier 
half  a  dozen  times  before  this.  And  done  it  with  relish, 
too.  Nowadays,  worse  luck,  it  isn't  even  good  form  to 
give  him  a  thrashing,  though  Heaven  knows  he's  the  sort 
of  brute  that  understands  no  argument  but  a  blow." 

"Blows  would  only  sharpen  his  wits  against  you,  Claude. 
Curs  bite,  as  bees  sting,  by  force  of  nature.  The  only 
thing  to  do  is  to  get  out  of  their  way." 

"I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  getting  out  of  any  man's  way," 
said  Claude,  haughtily.  "However,  don't  let's  talk  about 
the  beast.  I'm  extremely  sorry  you're  out  of  a  job.  Tell 
you  what,  Rob.  Come  up  to  my  office  on  Monday,  and 
we'll  talk  the  situation  over  and  see  what  can  be  done. 
You'll  find  me  in  the  galleries  on  the  top  floor." 

"Thanks,  Claude,  but  Monday  is  impossible,"  said 
Robert,  glad  of  the  excuse,  for  he  scented  patronage  in 
his  friend's  manner.  "I'm  giving  a  talk  on  'Unemployment 
under  the  National  Guild  System'  before  the  Guild  Study 
Club.  When  I  arranged  to  speak  on  Unemployment  I 
had  no  idea  I  should  do  so  as  an  experienced  hand." 

Possibly  Claude  was  dimly  conscious  of  his  friend's  sen- 
sitiveness. At  all  events,  he  said: 

"Well,  come  on  your  first  free  day.  I'm  always  there 
afternoons.  You  must  come,  if  only  to  see  my  two  new 
Cezannes.  I've  just  induced  father  to  buy  them.  By  the 
way,  old  chap,  what  on  earth  are  National  Guilds?" 

The  return  of  the  ladies  cut  off  a  reply.  Janet's  natural 
grace  redeemed  the  hang  of  a  not  too  well-tailored  suit. 
Cornelia  was  all  aglow  over  a  mandarin  coat  she  had  put 
on.  It  was  a  wonderful  dark  green  silk  with  dull  gold 
embroidery.  Her  clothes  had  a  remarkable  effect  of  cling- 


114  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

ing  to  her  contours.  "Look  at  me,"  her  body  seemed  to 
call  out  through  its  vestments,  "did  you  ever  see  anything 
so  ravishing?" 

Janet  walked  over  to  Robert's  side  and  sought  forgiveness 
without  asking  for  it.  And  he  forgave  her  without  saying 
so.  Her  soft,  flexible,  thrilling  voice  disturbed  him  sorely, 
and  he  wondered  whether  its  sustained  riches  were  as  illu- 
sory as  he  judged  the  mysterious  depths  of  her  gray  eyes 
to  be. 

Meanwhile,  Claude  was  telling  Cornelia  in  all  sincerity 
that  she  had  never  looked  more  enchanting. 

"Flatterer!"  she  said.  "To  how  many  girls  have  you 
said  that  today?" 

"Facts  don't  flatter,  Cornelia.  They  simply  cry  out  the 
truth." 

"Lothario,  it's  all  a  matter  of  the  science  of  pinning  and 
the  art  of  dressing.  Or  rather,  of  not  dressing." 

For  the  hundredth  time,  she  assured  Claude  and  Robert 
that  she  never  wore  corsets  or  underwear,  and  didn't  believe 
in  these  accoutrements. 

"What,  nothing?"  exclaimed  Claude,  perhaps  to  see  Janet 
blush. 

"We  are  an  art-hating  people  with  ugly  ideas,"  continued 
Cornelia,  unheeding  his  interruption,  "and  so  we  grow  ugly, 
unsightly  bodies.  That  is  why  modern  fashionable  dress- 
making has  but  one  aim:  to  conceal  deformities.  But 
dresses  that  conceal  women's  bad  points  are  sure  to  conceal 
their  good  points,  too.  A  tragic  loss!  Janet  is  young  and 
charming;  she  can  stand  this  loss.  I'm  on  the  wrong  side 
of  thirty;  I  can't." 

"Are  you  poking  fun  at  my  Brooklyn  clothes  again?" 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  115 

asked  Janet.  "If  you  go  on  like  this,  I  shall  have  to  ferret 
out  all  the  secrets  of  your  art,  in  pure  self  defence." 

"We  must  all  take  a  hand  in  educating  you,"  said  Cor- 
nelia, grandly.  "My  part  will  be  to  make  you  see  life  as 
a  world  of  beautiful  lines,  rhythms,  and  colors." 

"What  will  mine  be?"  asked  Claude. 

"Yours?  To  make  her  see  life  as  a  vale  of  Cashmere — 
all  roses  and  wine." 

"And  Rob's?" 

"Rob  will  make  her  see  it  as  a  vale  of  tears — all  sermons 
and  social  problems.  He'll  be  a  necessary  corrective  to 
you." 

"And  to  you,  too,"  said  Robert,  quickly,  amidst  a  general 
laugh. 

Janet  was  now  ready  to  go.  As  she  and  Claude  left, 
Cornelia  kissed  her  tenderly  and  said: 

"Remember,  if  anything  serious  happens  at  home,  /  want 
you,  Araminta." 

HI 

Claude  instructed  his  chauffeur  to  drive  across  Manhat- 
tan Bridge  through  Prospect  Park  and  along  the  Coney 
Island  Road  until  the  signal  should  be  given  to  turn  back 
to  Janet's  home  in  the  Park  Slope  section.  Then  he  took 
his  seat  in  the  closed  car  beside  his  companion. 

It  was  a  warm  spring  day,  and  an  agreeable  wind  from 
the  bay  blew  upon  them  through  the  open  windows  as  they 
crossed  the  East  River.  The  breeze,  the  river,  and  the 
motion  joined  to  chase  from  Janet's  mind  the  shadow  of 
the  scene  that  awaited  her  at  home. 

Besides,  there  was  the  god  at  her  side.    Nearness  did 


116  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

not  rob  him  of  his  divinity,  it  did  not  make  him  grow 
commonplace.  And  although  some  of  the  glamor  of  his 
strangeness  wore  away,  she  liked  him  all  the  better  for  being 
a  human  god  and  for  having  human  weaknesses  that  caused 
his  diviner  side  to  seem  all  the  more  real.  Janet  never 
gushed,  and  even  her  most  fervent  adorations  were  shot 
through  with  a  cool  streak  of  matter-of-fact  perception. 

Claude  was  very  happy,  too.  Philandering  had  few  new 
sweets  to  offer  him.  Yet  Janet  was  a  novelty  in  every  way. 
What  was  unique  in  her  was  her  disinterestedness,  a  quality 
he  did  not  consciously  credit  her  with,  however,  since  he 
did  not  believe  that  any  woman  possessed  it.  All  the 
young  ladies  he  had  ever  known  had  either  struck  attitudes 
at  his  social  position  or  groveled  more  or  less  openly  before 
his  wealth.  According  to  his  view  of  women,  their  one 
aim  in  life  was  to  get  money  out  of  him;  by  marriage  if 
possible,  by  fouler  means  if  not. 

But  Janet  was  different. 

She  might  have  fawned  upon  him,  or  thrown  herself  un- 
blushingly  at  his  head,  or  used  a  frigid  hauteur  to  empha- 
size the  point  that  her  station  in  life  was  better  than 
appearances  indicated.  The  girls  he  knew  invariably 
pursued  one  of  these  courses.  But  Janet  didn't.  Her 
whole  bearing  permeated  the  atmosphere  with  a  suggestion 
that  Claude  was  a  very  wonderful  being,  dashing,  hand- 
some, divine.  A  most  agreeable  suggestion!  But,  since 
it  takes  a  goddess  to  detect  a  god,  it  was  clear  that  she  was 
quite  a  wonderful  being,  too.  And  what  is  a  matter  of 
divinity  among  the  gods  on  Olympus.  It  is  like  a  title 
among  peers  of  the  realm. 

It  was  her  simple,  natural,  unaffected  behavior,  in  short, 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  117 

that  kept  his  fancy  intrigued.  Without  knowing  it,  his 
suspicion  of  women  was  almost  completely  disarmed. 

Cornelia's  parting  words  to  Janet  had  given  him  some 
concern. 

"You're  not  thinking  of  going  to  live  with  Cornelia?" 
he  said. 

"I  may  soon  be  glad  of  the  chance." 

"Why?" 

"Because  my  mother  threatens  to  put  me  out  of  her 
house." 

"But  what  for?"  he  said,  looking  at  her  in  amazement. 

"I  don't  look  like  an  incorrigible,  do  I?"  she  said  smiling. 
"But  my  mother  thinks  me  one  for  associating  with  people* 
like  you." 

"With  people  like  me?" 

"Well,  like  you  and  the  other  model  tenementers." 

"But  I'm  not  like  them,"  he  said,  half  amused,  half 
annoyed. 

"No?  Do  you  know  what  I've  noticed?  All  the  people 
in  the  model  tenements  say  they  are  'not  like  them.'  Cor- 
nelia says  so,  Robert  says  so,  and  now  you  say  so.  Each 
one  thinks  he  is  different,  unique." 

"Well,  I'm  sure  that  you  are,"  he  said,  rather  seriously. 
He  added,  lightly.  "That's  why  it  would  be  fatal  if  you 
went  to  live  there.  Do  try  to  patch  it  up  with  your  mother, 
Janet,  and  give  up  this  plan  of  Cornelia's." 

"Patching  it  up  with  my  mother  means  complete  sub- 
mission. Her  motto  is,  'bend  or  break.'  And  I've  bent 
long  enough." 

She  tried  briefly  to  give  him  an  idea  of  her  mother's 
domestic  tyranny  and  of  her  own  rebellion  against  it. 


118  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"You  don't  know  what  it  is  to  live  in  my  mother's 
house,"  she  said. 

"I've  heard  what  it  is  to  live  hi  Cornelia's  house,"  he 
retorted.  "She  casts  a  spell  over  young  girls  before  they 
know  her  well.  But  she  is  selfish  and  moody.  Her  friend- 
ships always  end  in  violent  quarrels.  She  is  now  on  the 
verge  of  a  break  with  Mazie  Ross." 

"She  may  have  very  good  grounds  for  the  break." 

"Oh,  she's  never  at  a  loss  for  grounds.  That  isn't  the 
point." 

"What  is  the  point?" 

"The  atmosphere  of  the  Lorillard  tenements.  It  isn't 
made  for  you  to  breathe  in.  Have  you  any  idea  what  the 
people  there  are  like?  Gangsters,  anarchists  and  fake 
artists  or  writers,  with  a  very  small  sprinkling  of  well- 
meaning  idealists,  most  of  whom  are  cracked  on  social 
questions.  The  men  are  all  out  of  business,  the  women 
all  out  of  marriage.  On  the  loose,  every  one  of  them, 
either  in  their  actions,  or  in  their  beliefs." 

"You  mean  they  don't  believe  in  marriage?  Well,  after 
all  I've  seen  of  family  life,  I  don't  believe  hi  marriage 
either." 

This  was  a  confession  which,  by  way  of  bait,  many 
another  girl  had  made  to  him. 

"That's  the  sort  of  thing  for  a  girl  like  Mazie  to  say," 
he  said  coldly,  "but  not  for  a  girl  like  you." 

Concern  for  himself  had  rapidly  taken  the  place  of  con- 
cern for  her. 

"Mazie's  way  doesn't  impress  me  any  more  than  the 
way  of  all  wives,"  she  said,  with  a  delightful  gesture  of 
candor.  "I  think  she  is  more  of  a  siave  to  men  than  most 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  119 

married  women  are.     I  want  to  be  mistress  of  myself." 

His  doubts  were  allayed  again.  The  spring  sunshine  and 
Janet's  subtle  charm  were  too  strong  a  team  for  suspicion 
to  hold  out  against.  As  the  car  sped  on  through  Prospect 
Park,  a  delicious  breeze,  laden  with  the  perfume  of  flowers 
and  the  rising  sap  of  trees,  cooled  their  faces  and  fanned 
their  senses  warm. 

''You  are  a  dear  little  theorizer,"  he  said  in  a  tender 
vibrating  tone.  "But  theories  have  no  interest  for  me  now. 
I'm  too  happy  to  think  about  them.  I  want  to  think  only 
about  you." 

"Impossible.  You  don't  know  enough  about  me.  We've 
only  just  met." 

"Absurd,"  he  said,  taking  hold  of  her  hands.  "We  met 
when  the  wood  nymphs  first  danced  to  the  pipes  of  Pan, 
when  the  starlight  first  threw  its  enchantment  on  youth, 
when  lovers  first  threaded  their  way  over  wild  hills  and 
woodlands  by  the  rays  of  the  crescent  moon.  We  have 
known  each  other  for  ages." 

"As  long  as  that?  Dear  me!  What  an  experienced 
person  I  must  be." 

Had  her  acknowledged  objection  to  marriage  affected 
him,  after  all? 

"All  experiences  are  nothing  to  this  experience,"  he  said, 
putting  his  arms  around  her  and  trying  to  kiss  her. 

She  resisted  him  with  a  quick,  firm  movement.  All  he 
could  do  was  to  seize  her  hands  and  give  them  the  rap- 
turous embraces  intended  for  her  lips. 

"Claude!"  she  called  out,  more  in  shyness  than  reproach. 

"But  I  love  you!"  he  cried,  retaining  her  hands  by  main 
force. 


120  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Since  yesterday?" 

"Yesterday!  A  million  years  ago.  The  moment  in  which 
I  felt  I  loved  you,  Janet,  was  a  world-without-end  mo- 
ment. That  is  love's  way." 

"Don't  profane  the  word  love,"  she  said,  her  voice  rich 
and  thrilling.  "You  can't  love  a  girl  you  don't  know." 

"Who  ever  loved  that  loved  not  at  first  sight?"  he  said, 
quoting  the  line  reproachfully,  and  releasing  her  hands  as 
he  did  so. 

"Do  you  believe  that  love  always  happens  at  first  sight? 
What  about  the  feeling  that  takes  hold  of  us  as  we  slowly 
learn  to  know  another's  splendid  character?  The  feeling  of 
tenderness  and  adoration.  Isn't  that  love,  too?" 

"No,  a  thousand  times,  no!  Call  it  friendship,  comrade- 
ship, esteem,  if  you  like.  Call  it  glorified  toleration.  But 
don't  call  it  love.  Love  doesn't  come  like  that.  It  comes 
like  the  swift  lightning  that  embraces  a  cloud." 

"How  I  should  love  to  love  like  that!"  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  mischievous  imitation  of  rhapsody. 

"Then  you  don't  love  me?"  he  demanded. 

She  refused  to  admit  that  she  did.  He  pressed  her  for 
an  answer. 

"Don't,  Claude,"  she  said  at  last,  disturbed.  "I  must 
keep  my  wits  about  me  today,  or  I  shall  be  as  putty  in 
my  mother's  hands." 

He  was  bitterly  disappointed.  Her  use  of  his  name  was 
some  solace,  however;  for,  as  her  soft,  flexible  tones  pro- 
longed it,  the  sound  was  music  to  his  ears. 

"Is  that  why  you  won't  let  me  kiss  you?"  he  pursued 
hopefully. 

"No.   I'm  not  used  to  it  yet,"  she  said,  quite  simply. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  121 

"Not  used  to  it!  You  mean  you  haven't  been  kissed 
by  men  before?" 

"Nothing  so  silly.    I  haven't  been  kissed  by  you  before." 

"Ah,  I  might  have  known  the  reason  wasn't  inexperi- 
ence," he  said,  with  incipent  jealousy.  "Then  why  balk 
at  me?"  he  went  on,  seizing  her  hands  again. 

"As   I   said,"   she   replied,    calmly   matter-of-fact.     "I 
haven't  had  time  to  think  of  it.    At  least,  not  much  nor 
for  long,"  she  added  impishly.    "I  must  first  see  whether 
I  can  get  used  to  the  idea." 

"Indeed!  But  getting  used  to  the  idea  won't  get  you 
used  to  the  thing  itself.  Only  practice  makes  perfect." 

"A  rehearsal  in  dumb  show  is  not  to  be  despised,"  was 
her  response. 

And  so  they  bantered  on  and  made  pretty  speeches, 
while  Claude's  car  bucked  the  wind  until  they  turned  into 
President  Street  and  stopped  at  the  corner  of  her  own  block. 

As  Janet  got  out,  she  was  hard  put  to  it  to  conceal  her 
sense  of  loss. 

At  parting,  all  her  matter-of-factness  deserted  her;  for 
a  few  seconds  she  felt  like  a  prisoner  half  awakened  from 
an  idyllic  dream. 

The  car  drove  away  with  Claude  less  triumphant  yet 
more  satisfied  than  he  had  ever  felt  towards  a  charming 
girl  before.  He  was  profoundly  stirred  by  the  magic  of 
Janet's  genuineness,  and  her  rich,  clarinet  tones  lingered 
disturbingly  in  his  mind. 


CHAPTER  NINE 


Thoughts  of  home  had  flitted  intermittently  through 
Janet's  mind  during  the  afternoon's  ride.  But  her  faculty 
for  living  securely  in  the  present  had  been  strong  enough 
to  send  the  omens  flying  as  fast  as  they  came.  A  domestic 
crisis  now  confronted  her,  however,  and  she  knew  it  could 
not  be  evaded.  As  she  crossed  the  threshold,  there  was  a 
sudden  bristling  of  her  nerves,  a  parching  and  aching  of 
her  throat,  and  a  sense  of  utter  misery. 

From  Laura,  the  maid,  she  learned  that  her  mother 
had  been  ill  all  day,  and  had  kept  to  her  bed.  As  this 
was  Mrs.  Barr's  invariable  practice  when  any  member  of 
the  family  displeased  her,  Janet  was  not  surprised.  She 
crept  quietly  upstairs  to  her  room  at  the  top  of  the  house. 

On  the  second  floor  she  passed  her  sister's  room.  Through 
the  open  door  Janet  could  look  into  a  mirror  which  reflected 
an  image  of  Emily,  dressing  for  the  evening.  She  called 
to  her  sister  with  an  assumed  cheeriness.  Emily  answered 
stiffly  and  without  stirring  an  inch. 

Janet,  catching  the  unfriendly  glance  from  the  mirror, 
continued  on  her  way,  hot  indignation  kindling  her 
blood.  She  could  invent  excuses  for  her  mother's  hostility, 
unreasonable  as  she  considered  it,  but  Emily's  censorious 
manner  was  altogether  intolerable. 

In  her  own  room  she  changed  her  costume  to  a  simple 
black  skirt  and  a  plain  white  blouse.  Claude  and  Kips 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  123 

Bay  receded  to  another  world  while  she  nerved  herself  for 
the  coming  ordeal. 

In  about  half  an  hour,  the  maid  came  up  with  a  message 
that  Mr.  Barr  wished  to  see  Janet  in  the  back  parlor.  She 
promptly  went  downstairs  and  discovered  her  father  pacing 
the  floor  in  agitation.  It  was  hard  to  believe  that  this 
tall,  imposing  man  was  a  moral  weakling  or  that  his  eagle's 
bearing  concealed  a  pigeon's  heart. 

"Jenny,"  he  said,  on  the  thinnest  fringe  of  reproach, 
"thank  Heaven  you're  back!" 

The  mere  sight  of  his  favorite  daughter  cooled  his  phan- 
tom anger.  All  he  wanted  now  was  to  see  his  wife  placated 
at  any  price.  For  he,  poor  man,  always  became  the  scape- 
goat, no  matter  who  the  criminal  was. 

"How  could  you  give  us  such  a  fright,  Jenny?"  he  con- 
tinued, referring  to  her  absence. 

"Really,  father,  I  can't  send  you  hourly  bulletins  of 
my  whereabouts,  can  I?  It's  not  my  fault  that  I've  out- 
grown childhood.  It's  a  law  of  nature." 

"You  don't  consider  your  mother,"  he  said,  plaintively. 
"You  know  how  it  upsets  her  to  be  disobeyed." 

"I'm  sorry,  father.  But  mother  will  have  to  get  recon- 
ciled to  the  facts  of  biology.  When  the  young  of  animals 
grow  up,  instinct  makes  them  follow  their  own  bent,  even 
at  the  cost  of  disobliging  their  parents." 

Janet  felt  rather  proud  and  a  little  surprised  at  hearing 
herself  talk  in  this  bold,  scientific  style.  She  wished  she 
could  repeat  it  to  her  mother,  but  secretly  doubted  her 
ability. 

"That  may  be,"  said  Mr.  Barr,  on  whom  her  biological 
views  were  completely  thrown  away.  "But  remember  that 


124  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

she  has  been  sick  all  day,  sick  with  worry  over  your 
escapade!" 

"Nonsense,"  replied  Janet,  unmoved.  "My  escapade 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Her  bad  temper  has  made  her 
ill.  It  always  does,  and  nobody  knows  better  than  she  how 
useful  the  weapon  is.  When  everything  else  fails,  she  gets 
sick  with  rage,  and  takes  to  her  bed  until  she  gets  her  own 
way  to  the  last  dot.  We  cringe  and  cower  before  her  sham 
illnesses — " 

"Janet!  You  mustn't  speak  of  your  mother  like  that. 
She  is  ill.  She  lay  awake  the  whole  night  and  didn't  touch 
a  morsel  of  food  all  day." 

"No  doubt  she  enjoyed  tormenting  herself  and  blaming 
the  result  on  me.  But  I  don't  believe  that  my  absence  was 
really  a  source  of  worry  to  anyone." 

"Janet,  I  stayed  up  until  three  o'clock  for  you.  And 
that  was  after  leaving  the  bank  late  and  stopping  at  the 
Montague  Library  to  get  the  books  you  wanted." 

"Of  course,  you  did,  you  foolish  old  dear,"  said  Janet, 
in  an  access  of  remorse. 

She  put  her  arms  affectionately  round  his  neck.  It  was 
not  easy  to  get  over  her  childhood  idolatry  of  him. 

"Kindness  is  a  bad  habit  of  yours,  papa,"  she  said. 
"You  take  to  good  deeds  as  some  men  take  to  gambling 
or  to  drink." 

He  smiled  and  patted  her  cheek  tenderly.  Her  remark 
was  not  far  from  the  truth.  His  morbid  (and  never  wholly 
gratified)  passion  for  approval  made  him  intemperately 
anxious  to  please,  and  caused  his  good  nature  to  be  freely 
exploited  by  unscrupulous  people,  who  repaid  him  with 
nothing  but  their  contempt. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  125 

"That's  like  my  own  little  Jenny.  Now  go  up  to  Emily's 
room  and  make  your  peace  with  mother." 

"Is  that  in  my  power?"  said  Janet,  flaring  up  again  and 
disengaging  her  arms  from  him. 

Mr.  Barr  was  torn  between  fear  of  his  wife  and  affection 
for  his  daughter. 

"Simply  keep  quiet  and  don't  answer  her  back  when 
she  speaks  to  you,"  he  urged  pacifically,  "After  all,  she's 
your  mother,  she  has  a  right  to  criticize  you." 

"I  refuse  to  acknowledge  the  right." 

"Now,  don't  be  obstinate,  girlie.  She  can't  help  lecturing 
people.  It's  a  habit  she  acquired  in  her  missionary  society. 
Doesn't  she  lecture  me?  If  I  submit,  surely  you  can." 

"I'm  neither  a  heathen  nor  a  husband." 

"There  now,"  he  said,  pleading  with  her.  "Don't  spoil 
everything  by  standing  on  your  pride.  What  will  you  gain 
by  defying  her?  Nothing!  Then  why  do  so?  I  tell  you, 
Jenny,  your  mother  may  be  a  little  hasty,  but  she's  a  very 
clever,  strong-minded  woman.  In  the  long  run,  she  is 
always  in  the  right." 

"How  can  you  cringe  to  her  even  when  her  back  is 
turned,"  cried  Janet,  revolted.  "You  know  the  truth  as 
well  as  I  do.  She  has  terrorized  all  of  us  as  cruelly  as 
ever  her  Puritan  ancestors  terrorized  Roger  Williams  and 
Anne  Hutchinson." 

"Now,  that  shows  how  unfair  you  are,"  said  Mr.  Barr, 
eagerly,  in  a  vibrant  vioce,  as  rich  as  Janet's  own.  "Only 
two  nights  ago,  your  mother  was  reading  to  me  from  John 
Fiske's  colonial  history.  She  came  across  this  very  case 
you  mention,  the  case  of  Anne  Hutchinson.  And  I  dis- 
tinctly recall  that  she  condemned  the  persecution  severely." 


126  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Disdaining  to  reply,  Janet  walked  away  from  his  side. 
In  that  moment,  she  hated  him.  It  was  incredible  that 
he  could  be  such  a  willing,  subservient  dupe. 

She  looked  hostilely  at  his  magnificent  exterior.  He 
had  also  inherited  a  lively  wit  and  considerable  mental 
dexterity.  Had  he  possessed  any  force  of  character  he 
might  have  been  a  great  financier  or  statesman  instead  of 
a  petty  manager  of  a  small  branch  bank.  And  Mrs.  Barr's 
temper  might  have  been  kept  within  bounds,  and  the  Barrs 
might  have  enjoyed  a  happy  home,  instead  of  becoming  a 
phantom  replica  of  a  bigoted  Boston  family  in  the  high 
and  palmy  days  of  Cotton  Mather. 

He  misinterpreted  her  silence. 

"You  need  merely  say  that  you  are  sorry,"  he  urged, 
"and  that  you'll  never  stay  out  again  without  her  approval. 
That  will  patch  up  everything." 

"Father,"  she  cried,  exploding.  "I  can't  say  that.  Be- 
cause I  simply  don't  mean  it.  From  now  on,  I'm  going 
to  have  my  own  way  about  some  things,  even  if  I  have  to 
leave  the  family.  Mother  may  grind  you  to  the  very  dust. 
Marriage  seems  to  give  her  that  right,  and  you  seem  to 
enjoy  the  process.  But  she  shan't  do  so  to  me." 

"Good  Lord,  what  will  happen  next?"  exclaimed  the 
unhappy  man,  appalled  at  the  collapse  of  his  plan  of  con- 
ciliation. "The  house  has  been  like  a  funeral  all  day. 
Would  to  Heaven  7  were  the  corpse." 

But  his  daughter  did  not  hear  this  pathetic  wish,  for 
she  was  already  on  her  way  upstairs. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  127 

II 

In  Emily's  bedroom  above  the  parlor,  Mrs.  Barr  was 
reclining  in  an  invalid's  chair.  Illness  had  not  softened 
the  rigidity  of  that  too,  too  solid  flesh.  She  was  pale, 
but  her  pallor  merely  accentuated  the  iron  lines  of  her  face. 

Emily,  more  matronly  than  ever,  hovered  about  her 
mother  in  unctuous  solicitude,  while  Laura,  the  maid, 
busied  herself  setting  chairs  and  knick-knacks  wrong,  in 
order  to  set  them  right  again.  Mrs.  Barr  disliked  to  have 
anyone  about  her  unoccupied. 

When  Janet  entered,  her  mother  greeted  her  coldly,  and 
then  dismissed  Laura  with  studied  sweetness.  She  was 
actually  much  kinder  to  her  domestics  than  to  members 
of  the  family.  Servants  were  hard  to  get  and  harder  to 
keep 

"I'm  sorry  you  have  been  ill,"  said  the  impenitent, 
politely. 

"Sit  down,  my  child.  I'm  getting  better  now,  thanks 
in  part  to  Doctor  Hervey." 

"What  did  the  doctor  say?" 

"That  it  was  to  be  expected  under  the  circumstances," 
interposed  Emily.  "He  thought  it  better  for  mother  not 
to  go  to  the  missionary  society  tonight." 

This  was  ominous  news.  Janet  recollected  that  her 
mother  had  not  missed  a  missionary  meeting  in  two  years. 

The  pause  was  filled  with  a  battery  of  silent  criticism. 
Usually  Janet  dispersed  these  terrible  silences  with  a  tor- 
rent of  impromptu  apologies.  Today,  however,  she  held 
her  peace.  Though  every  muscle  in  her  body  was  taut, 
she  felt  care-free. 

Yes,  at  this  supreme  inquisitorial  moment,  she  felt  sur- 


128  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

prisingly  care-free.  Except  that,  in  response  to  Emily's 
a'lusion  to  missionaries,  an  old  jingle  ricochetted  weirdly 
through  her  mind.  It  ran: 

Oh,  to  be  a  cassowary, 
On  the  plains  of  Timbuctoo, 
Chewing  up  a  missionary — 
Skin  and  bone,  and  hymn  book,  too. 

Outwardly,  she  was  as  impassive  as  a  Chinese  joss. 

"Well,  Janet?"  said  Mrs.  Barr,  outfought  with  one  of 
her  own  weapons. 

"Yes,  mother?"  replied  Janet,  demurely  interrogative. 
She  folded  her  hands  innocently  in  her  lap,  and  looked 
with  a  show  of  impersonal  interest  at  Emily's  new  pumps. 

"Have  you  nothing  to  tell  me?" 

"Not  unless  you  wish  to  learn  about  the  ball  I  went  to 
yesterday.  Are  you  interested  in  that?" 

Emily  gave  a  scornful  laugh. 

"I'm  not  interested  in  the  ball,"  said  Mrs.  Barr,  "and 
no  one  knows  it  better  than  you.  What  I  am  interested 
in  is  your  attending  the  ball  against  my  express  wishes." 

"Mother,  in  the  twentieth  century — " 

"Are  the  ways  of  God  less  valid  in  the  twentieth  century 
than  in  the  tenth?" 

In  disputes  with  her  children,  Mrs  Barr  always  invoked 
God  first.  This  failing,  she  took  stronger  measures. 

"Why  do  you  always  make  poor  God  responsible  for 
your  severity,  mother,"  said  Janet.  "It  is  not  His  way 
you  want  me  to  follow,  but  your  own.  Indeed,  whenever 
you  accuse  me  of  disobeying  the  will  of  God,  it  is  because 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  129 

I  have  really  disobeyed  your  will,  which  you  identify  with 
God's.  I  wonder  whether  He  likes  it?" 

"I  don't  propose  to  discuss  the  Deity  with  you.  You 
have  studied  your  Bible  so  little  that  you  are  apparently 
unable  to  give  any  opinion  on  the  subject  which  is  not 
blasphemous." 

"As  far  as  I  know,  the  Bible  does  not  prohibit  dancing," 
said  Janet,  shifting  the  defensive  attack  so  as  to  bring 
matters  to  a  head. 

"The  Bible  does  say,  however,  that  a  child  must  obey 
its  parents.  I  don't  wish  to  be  harsh,  Janet.  I  believe 
that  you  have  no  just  ground  for  accusing  me  of  severity. 
I  say  now,  as  I  have  said  before,  that  if  you  must  dance, 
you  may  go  to  the  affairs  that  are  given  at  the  church." 

"Thank  you!"  cried  Janet,  ironically.  "But  I  don't  like 
a  Sunday  School  atmosphere  or  a  Sunday  School  man." 

"I  thought  as  much!"  said  Mrs.  Barr,  her  eyes  like 
points  of  steel.  "You  prefer  to  associate  with  unprincipled 
men  who,  having  no  religion,  lead  lives  of  pleasure  and 
dance  the  lascivious  dances  of  the  time." 

"Mother,  I  don't  dance  anything  but  thoroughly  ancient 
and  respectable  dances.  I've  never  had  a  chance  to  learn 
the  modern  steps.  I  dance  very  rarely,  anyhow." 

"Emily  never  dances,"  said  her  mother,  cuttingly. 

"No,  she  is  rather  heavy  and  men  are  so  lazy  nowadays, 
and  so  tender  about  their  toes." 

Some  demon  had  made  Janet  spring  up  and  stop  reflec- 
tively in  front  of  Emily.  The  latter's  podgy  bulk  became 
a  size  larger  by  contrast  with  Janet's  mobile  slenderness. 

"Oblige  me  by  not  arguing,"  said  Mrs.  Barr,  coming  to 
her  elder  daughter's  rescue.  "I  tell  you  I  won't  tolerate 


130  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

anyone  in  my  house  that  openly  flouts  her  mother,  spends 
whole  nights  with  a  woman  of  evil  reputation,  and  deliber- 
ately wastes  the  Lord's  time." 

In  her  agitation  she  rose  halfway  from  her  chair.  But 
rage  and  lack  of  food  had  so  weakened  her  that  she  sank 
back  limply.  Emily,  looking  unutterable  things  at  Janet, 
implored  her  mother  to  be  calm  in  tones  that  invited  her 
to  be  just  the  contrary. 

Mrs.  Barr  hardly  needed  this  spur.  She  sincerely  be- 
lieved that  she  was  fighting  the  evil  one  for  the  possession 
of  Janet's  soul.  Revived  by  this  conviction  she  bravely 
returned  to  her  task. 

"See  the  condition  to  which  you've  brought  me,"  she 
said,  the  angry  tears  welling  up  in  her  eyes.  "What  with 
watching  and  waiting  and  praying  for  you  all  night,  and 
fretting  about  your  safety — " 

She  instinctively  followed  a  religious  appeal  with  a  senti- 
mental one.  But  her  speech  had  so  much  anger  mixed 
with  the  pathos,  that  it  left  Janet  cold. 

"I  hope  you  won't  get  upset  about  me  again,  mother," 
she  said,  unemotionally.  "I'm  quite  old  enough  to  take 
care  of  myself — " 

"You'd  better  go  to  your  room,  Janet!"  exclaimed  Emily, 
"before  you  kill  mother  with  your  cruel  selfishness." 

"I'm  not  aware  that  I'm  under  orders  to  you,  Emily, 
or  that  you've  the  right  to  play  the  Pharisee  because  you're 
content  to  lead  a  stagnant,  hole-in-the-corner  life.  If 
you  wanted  anything  you'd  disobey  mother  fast  enough. 
Only  you  happen  to  have,  no  wants.  And  you  make  a  virtue 
of  your  necessity.  I  have  plenty  of  wants.  And  you  per- 
suade mother  that  my  necessity  is  a  vice." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  131 

"Be  as  theatrical  as  possible,  Janet!"  said  Emily.  "Why 
don't  you  add  that  I  poisoned  mother's  mind  against  you?" 

"You  didn't  have  to  carry  coals  to  Newcastle,  Emily. 
You  merely  had  to  fan  the  flame  in  your  own  sweet,  sisterly 
way." 

Mrs.  Barr  checked  them  both  with  an  autocratic  wave 
of  her  hand. 

"You  need  not  abuse  Emily,  or  me  either,"  she  decreed, 
black-browed.  "There  is  absolutely  nothing  more  to  be 
said.  Either  you  respect  my  wishes  about  your  comings 
and  goings,  or  you  leave  my  house." 

"Mother,  do  you  really  propose  to  put  me  out  for  refus- 
ing to  submit  to  an  arbitrary  wish?" 

"I  should  think  I  had  fallen  far  short  of  my  duty,  if 
I  did  not  guard  my  children  against  sensual  folly — " 

"By  showing  them  the  door?" 

"If  you  leave  your  home,  it  will  be  by  your  own  choice 
and  not  by  your  mother's  command,"  said  Mrs.  Barr,  em- 
phatically. "This  is  your  home.  It  will  remain  yours  so  long 
as  you  keep  Christian  precepts.  But  a  mother  must  hold 
the  family  hearth  inviolate  against  evil  doing.  I  cannot 
condone  a  wicked  waste  of  the  Lord's  time  simply  because 
you  describe  the  practice  as  a  wish  to  be  free.  If  you  don't 
value  a  good  home,  you  are  certainly  quite  free  to  choose 
another." 

"Why  must  I  adopt  the  habits  that  suit  your  tastes  and 
Emily's,  but  that  are  hateful  to  mine?" 

"My  child,  you  are  flesh  of  my  flesh — " 

"All  the  laws  and  all  the  prophets  can't  justify  the 
narrow,  friendless,  joyless,  medieval  life  that  you  wish  me 
to  lead,"  cried  Janet,  in  a  passion  of  insurgency.  "When 


132  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

you  were  young  you  led  no  such  life  yourself.  Aunt  Mary, 
your  own  sister,  told  me  that  you  were  the  flightiest  girl 
in  the  family.  Your  girlhood  was  a  perpetual  round  of 
balls,  theatres,  parties  and  flirtations.  Do  I  ask  for  a  life 
of  pleasure  like  that?  No.  I  simply  want  to  choose  my  own 
friends,  trust  to  my  own  instincts,  and  follow  my  own 
bent." 

This  reference  to  her  mother's  youth  was  not  a  happy  one. 
Mrs  Barr  looked  back  on  her  younger  days  as  a  period  of 
godless  frivolity  for  which  she  had  largely  atoned  by  en- 
during with  a  contrite  heart  the  double  affliction  of  a  weak 
husband  and  a  wilful  daughter.  Her  duty,  as  she  saw  it, 
was  to  keep  Emily  and  Janet  out  of  the  primrose  paths 
which  she  herself  had  trodden  with  such  levity  and  with 
such  disastrous  results.  Accordingly,  Janet's  presumptuous 
allusion  merely  stirred  her  fanaticism  to  its  iciest  depths. 

"You  either  obey  me  or  go,"  she  said,  with  pitiless 
brevity. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  said  Janet,  affecting  a  blitheness  she 
was  far  from  feeling,  "I'll  go." 

Without  another  word,  Mrs.  Barr,  weak  as  she  was, 
rose  and  walked  with  a  firm  step  to  her  own  room.  Emily, 
not  altogether  pleased  with  this  climax.,  followed  her  im- 
mediately, giving  a  flabby  imitation  of  her  mother's  really 
magnificent  exit. 

Janet  stood  nonplussed  for  a  few  seconds.  Then  she 
went  upstairs  to  the  inward  refrain  of: 

"Chewing  up  a  missionary 

Skin  and  bones  and  hymn  book,  too." 

Her  inveterate  evenness  of  spirit  amounted  almost  to  a 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  133 

failing;  but  now,  for  the  first  time,  she  became  conscious 
of  latent  impulses  of  a  vindictive  and  murderous  kind. 

Back  in  her  own  room/  she  hastily  packed  a  suit-case 
with  her  most  necessary  belongings. 


CHAPTER   TEN 
I 

About  a  week  later,  a  tall,  thin,  immaculate  gentleman, 
in  a  suit  of  neutral  taupe,  entered  the  offices  of  the  Evening 
Chronicle.  A  stand-up  collar  slightly  tip-tilted  his  chin. 
But  his  expression  was  a  friendly,  not  a  haughty  one.  His 
small  roving  gray  eyes  looked  around  with  a  humorous 
inquisitiveness,  as  if  they  wondered  what  their  immaculate 
owner  could  possibly  hope  to  find  in  such  a  sloppy,  dis- 
orderly place. 

In  due  time,  a  slovenly  office  boy  stopped  pounding  on 
a  typewriter  and  showed  the  stranger  to  an  inner  office. 
Here  Hutchins  Burley  penned  those  inimitable  effusions  on 
"the  ethereal  feminine"  which  gave  the  Saturday  special 
half  a  million  female  and  male  readers.  It  was  an  army 
that  ran  the  Saturday  Evening  Post  brigade  a  close  second, 
and  rendered  Burley 's  professional  position  unassailable. 

The  roving  gray  eyes  saw  the  swollen  bulk  of  Mr.  Hutch- 
ins  Burley,  squatting  like  a  giant  toad  behind  a  roll-top 
desk  and  pawing  over  a  visiting  card. 

"Well,  Mr.  Pryor?"  said  the  pillar  of  the  Evening  Chron- 
icle, with  no  waste  of  civility.  "What  d'you  want?" 

"Frankly,  I  want  Mr.  Robert  Lloyd's  job." 

"How  do  you  know  it's  vacant?  Are  you  a  friend  of 
his?" 

"Hardly  that.    The  information  just  drifted  my  way." 

"You  handed  me  that  stuff  at  the  Outlaws'  Ball.  Who 
the  devil  are  you,  anyway?" 

Whenever  Burley  spoke  vehemently,   he  shoveled  the 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  135 

words  from  the  left  side  of  his  mouth,  a  process  that  con- 
torted his  face  into  the  exact  likeness  of  a  cartoon  by 
Briggs. 

"You  might  be  a  spy,"  he  added,  putting  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth  and  scowling  horribly  at  his  visitor. 

The  latter  replied  in  a  quiet  and  dignified  but  judiciously 
injured  tone. 

"Mr.  Burley,  you  have  my  card.  Go  into  my  personal 
history  all  you  like.  But  first,  let  me  refer  to  the  service 
I  did  you  at  the  ball.  It  was  a  small  matter — " 

"Don't  get  puffed  up  about  it  then,"  growled  Burley, 
with  much  less  hostility,  however. 

"No  fear,"  continued  Mark  Pryor,  as  terse  as  his  host 
and  much  more  urbane.  "I  mention  it  only  because  an 
ounce  of  action  is  worth  a  ton  of  talk.  Or  a  cartload  of 
stuffy  introductions.  The  point  is  this.  Having  learned 
that  you  had  discharged  Mr.  Lloyd — " 

"Who  says  I  discharged  him?"  Burley  noisily  cut  in. 
"He  discharged  himself." 

"Oh,  did  he?" 

"Yes,  damn  him.  I  wasn't  good  enough  for  him,  I  sup- 
pose. You  know  his  kind,  brains,  fatted  brains.  But  no 
guts!  Sticks  his  nose  up  at  everything  and  hangs  out  with 
a  lot  of  super-highbrows — New  Republic  gas-bags." 

"The  sort  that  cut  a  pie  from  the  periphery  to  the 
center?" 

"Yah!  That's  their  lingo.  Still,  Lloyd's  got  a  head  on 
his  shoulders.  I'll  say  that  for  him.  And  I  don't  fire  a 
man  that's  worth  his  salary.  Why  should  I?" 

"You  believe  in  keeping  your  grudges  out  of  your 
business?" 


136  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"That's  me.  I  could  have  given  him  his  walking  papers 
for  a  hundred  good  reasons.  But  I  didn't.  And  what 
thanks  did  I  get?  He  left  me  in  the  lurch.  That's  what 
he  did.  Left  me  on  his  own  hook  at  a  damn  critical  time." 

"A  case  of  bad  conscience,  perhaps." 

"You  said  it!  He'd  done  me  all  the  harm  he  could. 
He  and  Claude  Fontaine  who  put  him  up  to  it." 

Burley  enlarged  on  his  two-fold  grievance.  First,  Robert 
and  Claude  had  circulated  a  malicious  story  about  Harry 
Kelly  (a  professional  bruiser)  making  a  punching  bag  of 
him;  this  story  had  ruined  his  prestige  among  the  Outlaws 
of  Kips  Bay.  Then,  they  had  freely  slandered  him  in 
Cornelia  Covert's  inner  circle,  with  the  result  that  Cor- 
nelia's friend,  Janet  Barr,  had  conceived  an  insane  and 
utterly  baseless  dislike  of  him. 

His  story  was  full  of  evasions  and  suppressions.  Thus 
he  forgot  to  tell  Mark  Pryor  that  he  had  twice  waylaid 
Janet  on  the  street  and  had  been  coldly  repulsed  each  time. 
It  was  clear  that  these  repulses  had  added  fuel  to  his 
hatred  of  Claude  and  Robert,  the  two  men  who  found  favor 
in  her  eyes.  Against  them,  rather  than  against  her,  he 
vented  his  spleen.  When  he  spoke  of  her,  his  diatribe 
degenerated  into  a  whine. 

"I  know,"  said  Pryor,  laconically,  cheering  him  up.  "You 
have  that  'nobody  loves  me,'  feeling.  Nastiest  feeling  in 
the  world.  We  all  get  it  once  in  a  while.  I  find  there's 
only  one  remedy  for  it,  and  that's  to  stop  bullying  people." 

"Bullying  people!"  shouted  Burley,  jumping  up  and 
glaring  at  his  visitor.  "Say  that  again,  if  you  dare." 

Mr.  Pryor  smiled  faintly  and  sat  unmoved,  save  that 
his  neck  seemed  to  rise  a  very  little  out  of  his  stand-up 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  137 

collar,  as  the  eye-piece  of  a  microscope  rises  out  of  the  tube. 

"I'm  a  plain  man,  Mr.  Burley,"  he  said,  imperturbably. 
"And  I  speak  plainly.  If  you  don't  like  plain  speaking,  I'd 
better  withdraw  my  application." 

"The  hell  you'd  better!" 

Mr.  Pryor  got  up,  everything  quiet  about  him  except 
his  eyes. 

Burley  looked  as  if  he  were  about  to  launch  a  thunderbolt. 
But  the  roving  eyes  of  his  visitor  were  now  fixed  upon  him 
like  points  of  steel. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Burley,  suddenly  limp. 

Mr.  Pryor  sat  down  very  quietly,  without  taking  his  eyes 
off  Hutchins  Burley,  who  sat  down,  too,  almost  as  if  mes- 
merized. 

"Tell  you  what,"  he  said,  after  a  while.  "I  need  a 
sort  of  confidential  assistant.  A  man  who  can  keep  his 
eyes  and  ears  on  the  jump,  and  his  pen  and  tongue  under 
lock  and  key.  Get  me?" 

He  went  on  to  tell  Mr.  Pryor  that  he  was  willing  to  try 
him  out  and  that  faithful  service  would  meet  with  very  big 
rewards  and  with  increasingly  confidential  commissions. 
For  the  present,  his  newspaper  duties  were  to  be  subordi- 
nated to  the  one  task  of  keeping  track  of  the  Lorillard 
tenements. 

"Trust  me,"  said  Mark  Pryor. 

He  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  explain  that  keeping 
track  of  the  Lorillard  tenements  was  precisely  what  he  had 
been  doing  for  purposes  of  his  own. 

"And  glue  an  eye  on  that  fellow  Fontaine,"  added  Burley. 

"To  get  a  line  on  the  diamond  smuggling?"  asked  Pryor, 
with  the  most  casual  air  imaginable. 


138  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Burley  straightened  up  with  -i  yell  of  suspicion. 

"What  in  blazes  are  you  talking  about?"  he  said. 

"Merely  what  you  yourself  talked  about,  my  dear  sir," 
snid  Pryor  soothingly.  "At  the  ball  you  called  Mr.  Fon- 
taine a  diamond  smuggler.  More  than  one  person  will 
remember  that  remark." 

Burley's  suspicions  were  disarmed. 

"Forget  it,  my  friend,  forget  it,"  he  said.  "A  man  says 
a  good  many  things  under  the  influence  of  liquor  that  he 
has  no  call  to  say.  I  don't  suppose  the  Fontaines  are  less 
on  the  square  about  their  importations  than  the  other  big 
jewelers  are.  That's  no  business  of  mine  or  yours,  how- 
ever, is  it?" 

He  declared  emphatically  that  his  interest  in  Claude 
Fontaine's  doings  had  a  totally  different  basis.  On  tkree 
occasions  Fontaine  had  come  between  him  and  a  woman. 
He  did  not  hesitate  to  name  the  ladies.  One  was  Lydia 
Dyson,  another  was  Cornelia  Covert,  the  third  was  Janet 
Barr.  He  had  said  nothing  about  the  first  two.  He  was 
not  a  greedy  man.  Anyhow,  according  to  the  ethics  of 
Kips  Bay,  Lorillard  femalet,  were  nobody's  property.  That 
was  no  blasted  secret,  was  it? 

"But  this  Janet  Barr's  no  Lorillard  female,"  he  said, 
bringing  his  fist  down  heavily  on  the  .desk.  "Any  fool  can 
see  that.  And  I'm  man  enough  to  refuse  to  stand  by  while 
Fontaine  dirties  her  good  name." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  he  has—" 

"He'll  do  it,  all  right.  Or  why  did  he  pick  the  girl  up, 
when  he's  just  got  engaged  to  Armstrong's  daughter?" 

"Armstrong,  the  financier?" 

"Yes.    And  Dupont  Armstrong  won't  stand  for  a  man 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  139 

who  isn't  on  the  level  with  his  girl.    Just  put  that  in  your 
pipe  and  smoke  it." 

"I  know  a  safer  place,"  said  Mr.  Pry  or,  gently  tapping 
his  head.  "Where  it  won't  go  up  in  smoke." 

He  rose  and,  after  coming  to  a  few  necessary  under- 
standings with  Burley,  took  his  leave. 

As  he  walked  rapidly  along  Broadway  towards  the  sub- 
way, he  felt  that  he  had  done  a  very  good  morning's  work. 
He  was  satisfied  that  Hutchins  Burley  knew  more  about 
the  diamond  smuggling  than  he  cared  to  admit.  The  puzzle 
was  that,  although  Burley  obviously  connected  Claude  Fon- 
taine with  the  smuggling  operations,  he  was  unwilling  to 
give  the  connection  away.  What  was  the  motive  that  re- 
strained him  from  exposing  a  man  he  bitterly  hated? 
Clearly,  either  a  lack  of  proof,  or  some  consideration  of  a 
more  personal  kind. 

Reminding  himself  of  his  maxim  that  two  and  two  never 
make  four  except  in  vulgar  mathematics,  Mark  Pryor  left 
the  subway  at  Thirty-fourth  Street,  the  Kips  Bay  station 
nearest  the  Lorillard  tenements.  Then  he  went  directly  to 
his  flat. 

II 

Incoming  or  outgoing  denizens  made  barely  a  ripple  on 
the  surface  of  Kips  Bay.  The  district  was  used  to  a  shift- 
ing population.  Even  the  colonization  of  Sutton  and  Beek- 
man  Places  by  Pierian  millionaires  "cut  no  ice."  Honest 
men  and  thieves,  artists,  criminals  and  Bohemians,  idle 
paupers  and  rich  idlers,  all  these  floated  in  and  floated 
out,  but  the  net  hodge  podge  was  much  the  same.  Bomb 
makers  might  come  and  gunmen  might  go,  but  Kips  Bay 
went  on  forever. 


140  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

The  Lorillard  tenements,  the  hub  of  the  district,  had 
experienced  their  fair  share  of  changes  during  the  week  of 
Mark  Pryor's  advent.  Robert  and  Janet  were  among  the 
newcomers.  Robert,  thrown  on  his  own  scant  resources, 
had  secured  a  nook  in  Kelly's  flat,  Number  Thirteen,  his 
berth  there  being  the  fruit  of  Cornelia's  good  offices.  And 
Janet  had  come  to  live  with  Cornelia  in  flat  Number 
Fifteen. 

This  last  event  was  at  once  followed  by  a  break  in  Cor- 
nelia's partnership  with  Mazie  Ross.  The  three  small 
rooms  and  kitchenette  were  not  large  enough  for  more  than 
two  people.  And  pretty,  slovenly  Mazie,  her  early  enthu- 
siasm for  Cornelia  cooled,  had  lately  spent  more  and  more 
time  on  her  own  appearance  and  less  and  less  on  her  com- 
panion's wants. 

Cornelia  always  got  rid  of  a  companion  the  moment 
a  better  one  turned  up.  A  "better  one"  usually  meant 
one  who  could  do  more  of  Cornelia's  housework,  or  could 
look  after  her  creature  comforts  more  diligently,  or  could 
give  her  more  of  that  flattering  attention  of  which  she  never 
had  her  fill.  Whenever  the  time  came  to  change  partners, 
Cornelia  would  send  the  old  one  flying  without  the 
smallest  compunction.  Nor  was  she  ever  at  a  loss  for  a 
good  excuse. 

Janet's  first  day  in  Number  Fifteen  was  Mazie's  last. 
When  Mazie  came  home  that  night,  "instead  of  poppies, 
willows  waved  o'er  her  couch." 

The  crash  came  after  supper,  while  Janet  was  out  shop- 
ping with  Harry  Kelly,  who  had  quickly  become  a  steady 
visitor  at  his  next-door  neighbor's  flat.  As  a  pretext,  Cor- 
nelia chose  the  matter  of  Mazie's  easy  friendship  with 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  141 

Hutchins  Burley,  a  friendship  reported  to  have  gone  as  far 
as  was  possible,  since  the  recent  ball. 

There  was  nothing  new  in  the  charge  that  Mazie  prac- 
ticed principles  of  varietism  about  which  Cornelia  simply 
theorized.  The  only  novelty  was  that  Cornelia  now  de- 
clared the  charge  to  be  a  good  excuse  for  parting  company. 
Mazie  thought  it  a  poor  excuse.  On  this  difference  of 
opinion  there  sprang  up  a  tempestuous  scene.  Words  flew 
high,  and  the  checks  that  polite  society  imposes  on  candid 
criticism  of  one's  friends  went  completely  by  the  board. 

The  climax  was  reached  when  Cornelia  offered  the  opin- 
ion that  if  Mazie  wanted  to  become  a  vulgar  little  copy  of 
Camille,  that  was  her  affair;  but  flat  Number  Fifteen  was 
not  the  place  in  which  to  practice  the  part.  In  vain  did 
Mazie  reply  with  an  unexpurgated  review  of  Cornelia's  his- 
tory. Cornelia  was  unmoved.  And  her  languid,  cadenced 
retorts  floated  serenely  above  Mazie's  torrent  of  invective 
like  a  violin  obligate  above  the  crashing  brasses. 

It  did  not  take  Mazie  long  to  pack  her  most  necessary 
articles  into  a  bag  and  go.  On  her  way  out,  she  said,  with 
a  good  imitation  of  Cornelia's  sweetest  tone: 

"Good  bye,  Cornelia.  I'd  like  to  stay  long  enough  to 
tell  your  next  dupe  what  a  fraud  you  are.  But  what's  the 
use?  She  won't  thank  me  for  it,  as  I  suppose  she  has  a 
crush  on  you,  like  I  had  once.  Well,  it'll  do  her  good  to 
learn  by  experience.  Finding  you  out,  my  dear,  is  such  a 
complete  education." 

By  the  time  Janet  and  Harry  Kelly  returned,  all  was 
quiet  along  the  Potomac. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 


For  the  next  few  weeks,  Janet  lived  excitedly  in  the 
glamor  of  the  Lorillard  tenements.  She  could  not  well 
have  imagined  a  bigger  difference  than  that  between  the 
complete  orthodoxy  of  the  Barrs  of  Brooklyn  and  the  com- 
plete heterodoxy  of  the  model  tenementers  of  Kips  Bay. 

Her  impression  of  the  new  life  was  put  into  words  for 
her  by  Lydia  Dyson,  the  author  of  "Brothers  and  Sisters," 
(then  in  its  twenty-fifth  big  printing).  Lydia,  whose  tall, 
thin  form  and  pale  olive  skin  lost  none  of  their  spectacular 
qualities  by  the  snake-like  movements  she  affected,  the 
huge  jet  earrings  she  wore,  or  the  gold-tipped  cigarettes 
she  smoked,  assured  Janet,  in  a  rich  Kentucky  drawl: 

"We  obey  only  one  custom  here,  and  that  is  to  disobey 
all  customs;  we  hold  only  one  belief,  and  that  is  to  hold 
no  beliefs." 

Janet  was  fully  persuaded  that  the  first  part  of  this  state- 
ment was  true  and  that  the  second  part  was  a  vast  improve- 
ment upon  the  Barr  regime. 

In  truth,  she  found  the  Lorillardian  absence  of  formality, 
constraint  and  regulated  behavior  a  decided  relief  after  her 
long  course  of  Calvinistic  repression  at  home.  And,  active 
though  she  was  by  nature,  she  did  not  at  first  notice  how 
the  days  slipped  by  with  great  ado,  but  with  very  little 
done. 

The  Lorillard  tenementers  were  not  exactly  lazy.    They 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  143 

were  merely  idle.  Like  the  idle  rich  and  the  idle  poor  they 
were  ceaselessly  occupied — in  killing  time. 

Cornelia  was  in  the  habit  of  getting  up  somewhere  be- 
tween nine  and  eleven.  After  breakfast,  the  two  friends 
would  set  out  to  look  for  a  job.  The  spirit  in  which  they 
proceeded  was  the  spirit  in  which  young  people  go  sky- 
larking. Hunting  for  a  job  was  an  old  pastime  of  Cor- 
nelia's. If  she  ever  came  up  to  a  job's  requirements,  the 
job  never  came  up  to  hers.  Or  if  by  chance  it  did,  she 
discovered  a  bewildering  array  of  reasons  for  not  taking  it, 
or  for  speedily  leaving  it,  when  taken. 

At  noon,  the  day's  duty  was  considered  fully  done.  After 
lunch,  there  was  another  jaunt;  this  time  to  an  art  gallery, 
concert  hall,  theatre  or  movie.  Free  tickets  from  Cornelia's 
theatrical  friends  were  reasonably  plentiful,  and  when  these 
failed,  there  were  return  calls  to  pay. 

Thus,  Charlotte  Beecher's  studio  was  a  favorite  stopping 
place,  as  Janet  soon  discovered.  Charlotte  possessed  a  mil- 
lion dollars  or  more  in  her  own  right,  and  she  had  three  or 
four  studios  in  totally  different  parts  of  the  city.  She  did 
her  hardest  work  in  her  double  Lorillard  flat  every  morning; 
her  evenings  were  spent  warding  off  fortune-hunting  suitors 
like  Denman  Page,  who  besieged  her  Fifth  Avenue  apart- 
ment; on  certain  afternoons  she  served  an  "intellectual 
tea"  in  a  studio  sumptuously  fitted  up  in  Washington  Mews. 

Janet  was  always  taken  to  the  studio  de  luxe  in  the  Mews. 
Cornelia,  invariably  busy,  would  be  sketching  some  new 
design  of  a  hat,  or  pinning  together  a  one-piece  dress,  whilst 
she  luxuriated  happily  amidst  the  rich  Chinese  rugs  and  the 
soft  silken  cushions  of  Charlotte's  show  room.  The  serpent 
in  this  garden  of  Eden  was  the  "little  group  of  serious 


144  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

thinkers"  (an  element  alien  to  Kips  Bay)  that  met  in  the 
Mews  by  virtue  of  Charlotte's  encouragement. 

"These  intellectuals!"  Cornelia  would  say  scornfully  to 
Janet  on  the  way  home.  "Did  you  ever  hear  such  bump- 
tious talk?" 

"I  find  them  rather  amusing,"  Janet  would  perhaps  reply. 

"Araminta,  what  nonsense!  They  positively  put  the 
furniture  on  edge.  But  that's  Charlotte  all  over.  There's 
a  nigger  in  every  woodpile,  and  there's  a  jarring  note  in 
every  one  of  Charlotte's  rooms.  My  dear,  it  bores  me 
cruelly." 

Still,  Cornelia  went  on  visiting  the  Mews,  intellectuals, 
cruel  boredom,  and  all.  It  puzzled  Janet  for  a  time.  She 
had  still  to  learn  that  a  perfect  Kipsite  is  prepared  to  suffer 
no  end  of  martyrdom  in  the  sacred  cause  of  luxury. 

Every  evening  was  like  a  new  party  to  Janet,  flat  Number 
Fifteen  being  one  of  the  chief  rendezvous  in  the  tenements. 
After  supper,  visitors  of  both  sexes  dropped  in  unannounced 
and  uninvited,  until  by  midnight,  a  dozen  people,  more  or 
less,  were  sure  to  be  occupying  the  whole  flat. 

Generally,  the  guests  split  up  into  small  groups  and  spent 
the  time  in  play.  Some  played  at  dancing  or  at  music, 
others  at  clever  repartee  or  giddy  flirting.  To  this  play, 
the  counterpoint  was  enthusiasm.  A  magnificent  enthusi- 
asm for  self.  In  a  rapturous  torrent  of  words,  each  Kipsite 
painted  a  roseate  future  that  led  by  startling  steps  to  a 
supreme  moment  in  which  the  world  lay  prostrate  at  the 
enthusiast's  feet. 

It  was  a  cosmopolitan  gathering.  All  the  arts  and  sci- 
ences and  occupations,  all  the  moral  and  immoral  standards, 
and  all  the  races  and  nationalities  of  New  York  were  repre- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  145 

sented  A  dancer  from  the  Hindoo  Kush,  several  would-be 
Fokines  or  Stravinskys,  two  or  tnree  imitation  Oscar  Wildes, 
Theodore  Dreisers  or  Frank  Harrises  —  these  were  sure  to 
be  there.  Even,  the  solid  banker  (or  aspiring  Pierpont 
Morgan),  who  kept  a  quiet  flat  and  a  lady  in  it,  was  an 
occasional  visitor.  No  one  was  excluded  who  was  piquant 
or  picturesque. 

Cornelia's  specially  privileged  guests  were  a  scanty  hand- 
ful. Among  the  men  were  Claude  Fontaine,  Robert  Lloyd, 
Denman  Page,  and  Harry  Kelly,  the  "Harlem  Gorilla." 
Soon  after  Janet's  coming,  Mark  Pryor,  immaculate 
and  unobtrusive,  joined  the  intimate  circle  and  began  mys- 
teriously to  appear  and  to  disappear. 

Still  fewer  were  the  women  admitted  to  the  inner  ring. 
Of  these  the  chief  were  Lydia  Dyson,  the  spectacular,  and 
Charlotte  Beecher,  the  industrious.  The  novelist  came  in 
silks,  the  heiress  in  calicos.  Charlotte's  cheap  but  natty 
working  costume  was  looked  upon  among  the  Outlaws  as  an 
affectation.  Her  blouses  and  skirts  gave  Cornelia  the  horrors. 

So  did  her  marked  preference  for  Robert  Lloyd. 

Janet  had  an  idea  that  these  evening  visitors  came  chiefly 
to  admire  Cornelia  or  to  be  admired  by  her.  She  assumed 
that  Cornelia  was  "the  whole  show."  It  was  a  pardonable 
assumption.  Cornelia  sat  in  a  rocking  chair  in  the  central 
room  and  was  feline,  and  languid,  and  observant,  while  the 
excitement  eddied  and  swirled  around  her.  To  all  appear- 
ances she  held  the  reins  of  her  party  with  the  masterly 
skill  of  the  Borax  man  who  drives  the  celebrated  twenty 
mule  team. 

Robert  would  have  it  that  Cornelia  was  neither  the  star 
nor  the  manager  of  the  nightly  performance  in  Number 


146  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Fifteen.  According  to  him,  the  only  management  she  dis- 
played was  in  the  skill  with  which  she  focused  attention 
upon  herself.  The  cadenced  laugh,  the  sugary  stab,  the 
artful  question  —  these  were  not  the  subtle  devices  of  a 
clever  hostess;  they  were  merely  the  centripetal  pulls  of 
an  egomaniac  against  the  centrifugal  interests  of  her  guests. 

Janet  dismissed  this  explanation  lightly  and  begged 
Robert  not  to  analyze  every  joy  until  its  very  essence  had 
been  probed  —  and  destroyed.  She  laughed  at  his  attempt 
to  convince  her  that  these  gay  evenings  of  Cornelia's  were 
a  kind  of  renaissance.  His  theory  was  that  the  light  of 
Cornelia's  splendor  had  been  getting  dim  of  late,  as  it  had 
got  dim  on  several  previous  occasions.  But  the  impact  of 
a  new  partner  against  her,  like  the  impact  of  an  astral 
visitor  against  a  dying  sun,  now  as  always  gave  her  a  new 
lease  of  brilliance. 

In  short,  Robert  asserted  that  it  was  the  replacement  of 
Mazie  by  Janet  which  had  caused  a  tremendous  revival  of 
interest  in  Cornelia's  flat.  Everybody  in  the  inner  ring  of 
the  Outlaws  or  in  the  outer  ring  of  the  tenements,  every- 
body indeed,  that  had  any  shadow  of  a  claim  to  an  entree, 
had  come  trooping  in  to  sun  themselves  in  the  restored 
glory  of  Number  Fifteen. 

To  most  of  Robert's  remarks,  Janet  paid  little  attention. 
But  she  carefully  treasured  up  one  of  them. 

This  was  that  never  before  had  Claude  Fontaine  been 
such  a  constant  visitor. 

II 

Yet  for  a  few  days  after  the  Outlaws'  Ball,  Claude  had 
behaved  as  if  his  confession  of  love  had  never  been  made, 
or  had  merely  been  the  expression  of  an  impulse,  for  which 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  147 

he  disclaimed  responsibility.  There  had  been  no  return  to 
the  intimacy  that  instantly  abolishes  all  the  formulas  of 
mere  politeness  and  all  the  prescriptions  of  mere  etiquette; 
there  had  been  no  recurrence  of  that  world-without-end 
moment  at  the  ball  or  of  that  other  moment  in  the  limousine 
next  day. 

At  the  ball  he  had  treated  her  as  he  would  have  treated 
any  respectable  middle-class  girl  who  might  take  his  fancy. 
That  is,  he  had  stretched  the  conventions  as  far  as  an  im- 
pressionable young  woman  will  usually  allow  a  dashing 
young  man  to  stretch  them,  but  not  further. 

After  she  joined  Cornelia,  however,  his  attitude  changed. 
He  treated  her  with  a  certain  wariness  of  manner  by  which 
he  appeared  to  convey  the  following: 

"I  took  you  to  be  a  girl  who  strictly  observed  the  moral 
customs  established  and  honored  in  Brooklyn,  but  long 
fallen  into  disuse  in  certain  parts  of  Manhattan,  and  no- 
where less  respected  than  in  Kips  Bay.  It  amused  me  to 
tempt  you  to  violate  these  customs,  especially  as  I  had  little 
hope  of  meeting  with  success.  But  now  that  you  have 
become  a  LoriHard  girl,  what  spice  is  there  in  tempting 
you?  Either  you  never  were  the  girl  I  took  you  for;  or, 
at  any  rate,  you  soon  won't  be. 

"At  all  events  I  shall  be  on  my  guard.  You  are  the 
first  girl  to  work  upon  me  so  mightily  with  a  single  glance. 
But  you  are  not  the  first  girl  who  has  looked  as  innocent 
as  a  dove  and  acted  as  subtly  as  a  serpent.  Be  warned! 
Neither  your  innocent  subtlety  nor  subtle  innocence  can 
make  me  forget  that  a  Claude  Fontaine  is  in  the  habit  of 
forming  but  one  sort  of  friendship  with  a  girl  in  the  Loril- 
lard  tenements." 


148  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Janet,  always  very  sensitive  to  atmosphere,  got  the  effect 
of  this  train  of  thought,  and  in  consequence  kept  Claude 
at  as  great  a  distance  as  her  naturally  cordial  nature  would 
Jet  her. 

In  one  of  the  evening  gatherings  at  Cornelia's  the  talk 
turned  on  marriage,  and  it  came  out  that  Janet  had  adopted 
Cornelia's  views  on  the  wickedness  of  marriage  in  its  modern 
form.  Claude,  with  the  common  failing  of  lovers,  promptly 
referred  her  action  to  himself. 

Was  this  Janet's  way  of  announcing  that  she  meant  to 
make  no  greater  demands  on  a  rich  man  than  any  other 
girl  in  the  Lorillard  environment?  At  first,  it  seemed  so 
to  Claude,  and  he  felt  relieved.  But,  on  second  thoughts, 
another  question  occurred  to  him.  Might  not  Janet's  con- 
version to  Cornelia's  beliefs  in  free  love  be  a  mere  blind? 
A  pretended  dislike  of  wedlock  was  a  recognized  bait  for 
landing  a  man  at  the  altar.  Was  her  conversion  of  this 
type  or  was  it  of  the  franker  type  of  Mazie  Ross,  who 
asked  all  that  was  due  to  a  Lorillard  tenement  girl  but 
asked  no  more? 

On  the  whole,  it  seemed  fairly  safe  to  treat  Janet  on  the 
Mazie  Ross  plane,  and  this  he  proceeded  to  do. 

Mazie,  by  the  way,  had  returned  as  a  visitor  to  Number 
Fifteen  within  a  week  of  her  spectacular  exit.  Her  doll- 
like  face  had  recovered  its  pretty  smile  and  her  baby  blue 
eyes  gave  no  clue  to  whether  she  was  seeking  vengeance 
or  merely  currying  favor  again.  No  one  asked  or  cared, 
hatred,  like  love,  being  a  very  fluctuating  stock  in  the 
model  tenements. 

Janet  had  not  failed  to  notice  that  Claude  made  little 
difference  between  his  manner  to  her  and  his  manner  to 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  149 

Mazie.  She  did  not  like  it,  but  she  had  to  wait  some  time 
for  the  chance  of  showing  how  much  she  scorned  his  judg- 
ment. 

Ill 

The  opportunity  came  at  one  of  Cornelia's  gayest  parties 
given  at  the  end  of  Janet's  second  week  in  Kips  Bay.  It 
was  really  a  sort  of  "coming  out"  party  for  Janet.  All 
the  Outlaws,  both  of  the  inner  and  the  outer  ring  turned 
out  to  hail  the  new  favorite.  Even  Mark  Pryor  put  in  an 
appearance  and  actually  remained  on  deck  until  the  end, 
perhaps  because  the  trio  of  Cornelia's  friends  who  provided 
the  music  played  Lehar,  Straus,  and  more  recent  dance 
tunes  without  the  customary  sentimental  whine. 

Contemptuous  of  the  fitness  of  things,  Claude  did  his 
best  to  monopolize  Janet.  When  the  gayety  was  at  its 
highest  and  the  music  at  its  most  intoxicating,  he  danced 
her  into  a  room  which,  for  the  moment,  proved  to  be  nearly 
but  not  quite  empty. 

Pushed  out  of  the  way  against  a  corner  stood  a  screen. 
Behind  this  he  whirled  her,  and  then  swiftly  took  her  in  his 
arms  and  kissed  her  passionately.  As  swiftly,  she  pushed 
him  away  with  an  expression  of  extreme  distaste. 

"I  don't  like  my  friends  to  imitate  Hutchins  Burley," 
she  said,  her  voice  quiet  and  cool,  her  gray  eyes  full  of  life 
and  scorn. 

The  others  in  the  room  laughed  in  mockery  or  applause. 
For  an  instant,  Claude's  all-conquering  look  was  replaced 
by  a  crestfallen  one.  But  he  quickly  regained  his  poise 
and  spirits. 

"Just  a  kiss  to  try,"  he  said  jauntily,  as  he  attempted  to 
recapture  her  arm. 


150  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"It's  much  too  trying  for  gentle  Janet,"  blithely  chirped 
Mazie,  who  had  danced  into  the  room  and  taken  in  the 
situation,  as  Janet  again  turned  away  from  Claude. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  Janet's  sense  of  propriety  in 
public  that  was  offended  more  than  anything  else.  As  for 
Claude,  he  was  only  less  mortified  by  the  affront  to  his 
vanity  than  by  the  haunting  fear  that  Janet's  rebuff  came 
from  genuine  dislike. 

No  girl  had  ever  given  the  brilliant,  impetuous  Claude 
Fontaine  a  glance  of  undisguised  repugnance. 

Janet  spent  the  rest  of  the  evening  chiefly  in  conversation 
with  Robert  Lloyd  and  Mark  Pryor.  Meanwhile,  Claude 
affected  a  complete  indifference  to  her  actions.  He  threw 
himself  into  the  party  with  a  mad  abandon,  and  whipped 
up  the  conviviality  with  a  riotous,  headstrong  wildness  until 
everybody  voted  it  the  merriest  evening  in  years.  Amongst 
the  other  sex,  he  exploited  to  the  utmost  his  patrician 
graces  and  masculine  daring,  and  was  so  much  the  center 
of  the  occasion  that  the  party  might  have  been  his  rather 
than  Janet's. 

The  women  thought  him  magnificent,  graceful,  cruel  — 
in  a  word,  irresistible;  the  men  laughed  at  his  impudence, 
and  envied  or  admired  his  readiness,  effrontery  and  ease. 

And  yet,  as  he  showed  his  fine  points  triumphantly  now 
to  this  adoring  girl  and  now  to  that,  his  voice  vibrated 
towards  Janet. 

Janet  took  it  all  in,  and  continued  talking  to  Robert 
with  undisturbed  satisfaction.  She  saw  Claude  pass  reck- 
lessly from  one  favorite  to  another,  and  guessed  easily  that 
none  of  these  was  his  real  aim. 

When  the  party  broke  up,  Claude  induced  Janet  to  listen 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  151 

to  him  alone  for  a  moment.  He  was  suddenly  all  contrition. 

To  his  whispered  plea  for  forgiveness,  she  said,  in  a  not 

unkindly  tone: 

"Forgiveness  for  what?   For  advertising  your  emotions?" 
"For  the  kiss,"  he  said,  his  voice  full  of  sensuous  charm. 

And  he  added,  on  a  more  audacious  note:    "I  wish  I  could 

take  it  back." 

"Oh,  do  you?    You'd  better  begin  with  the  publicity." 

"Please  forgive  the  kiss  and  the  publicity,  Janet." 

"Ill  forgive  the  second  when  I  forget  the  first,"  she 

replied,  much  more  gaily  than  she  intended,  thus  proving 

that  Claude  was  not  the  only  one  in  the  grip  of  a  resistless 

passion. 
Claude  went  home,  satisfied  that  his  daring  had  once 

again  enabled  him  to  snatch  victory  out  of  the  arms  of 

defeat. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 


And  so  it  had.  None  the  less,  the  experience  had  taught 
Claude  a  lesson  which,  for  once,  he  took  to  heart.  He  never 
again  supposed  that  Janet's  friendship  was  to  be  had  on 
the  same  terms  as  Mazie's  or  even  Cornelia's. 

True,  he  remained  in  the  dark  as  to  what  precisely  her 
idea  of  self-respect  was.  Conflicting  and  irreconcilable  in- 
ferences were  the  only  ones  he  could  draw  from  the  con- 
duct of  a  girl  who  lived  in  the  Lorillard  tenements,  moved 
in  the  Outlaws'  circle,  professed  to  be  hostile  to  marriage, 
yet  stood  on  her  dignity  withal,  in  quite  a  traditional 
womanly  way. 

But  Claude  was  not  the  man  to  waste  time  on  psycho- 
logical conundrums.  Besides,  he  was  too  happy  to  be  criti- 
cal. He  was  back  in  the  good  graces  of  Janet,  or  rather, 
as  he  soon  paraphrased  the  case,  she  was  back  in  his.  He 
flattered  himself  that  he  was  the  dominant  influence  over 
a  girl  who  was  a  piquant,  if  puzzling,  amalgam  of  Brooklyn 
and  Bohemia. 

In  the  next  two  weeks,  his  position  as  Janet's  particular 
friend  was  established  beyond  dispute.  Few  afternoons 
passed  in  which  his  motor  car  did  not  drive  up  to  the 
Lorillard  and  whirl  her  away  to  a  place  of  gayety  or  recrea- 
tion. The  chief  rival  claimant  upon  her  time  was  Robert 
Lloyd.  But  as  Claude,  in  point  of  social  advantages  and 
personal  graces,  far  outdistanced  him,  this  rivalry  was  not 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  153 

taken  seriously  by  any  of  the  three  persons  concerned,  least 
of  all  by  Claude. 

One  day,  to  Cornelia's  astonishment,  Janet  announced 
that  she  had  planned  to  spend  the  afternoon,  not  with 
Claude,  but  with  Robert.  She  made  the  announcement 
from  a  tuffet  on  which  she  sat  soberly,  while  reading  a  book 
by  Mrs.  Beatrice  Webb. 

"Is  this  your  pensive  day?"  asked  Cornelia,  ironically. 

"Yes,"  replied  Janet.  "Robert  complains  that  I'm  neg- 
lecting him,  and  consequently  my  education.  I  think  I 
ought  to  give  him  a  chance  to  prove  both  assertions.  So 
I've  asked  him  to  come  here  this  afternoon.  I  can't  spend 
all  my  days  in  sky-larking,  can  I?" 

"My  dear,  'youth's  a  stuff  will  not  endure.'  If  you  choose 
Mrs.  Sidney  Webb  and  Robert  Lloyd  rather  than  Claude 
Fontaine,  the  choice  is  your  own.  Of  course,  Robert  is 
very  entertaining.  He  pledges  you  with  facts  and  figures. 
But  when  I  was  a  rosebud  like  you,  Araminta,  I  preferred 
a  man  who  drank  to  me  only  with  his  eyes." 

"Cornelia,  I  adore  being  made  love  to;  yet  I  get  horribly 
tired  of  it  —  even  of  Claude's  love  making  —  when  it's 
kept  up  too  long.  And  I  hate  facts  and  figures;  yet  Robert's 
never  bore  me." 

"What  a  morbid  symptom,  my  dear!" 

"Oh,  don't  say  that.  I  feel  sure  it's  quite  a  natural 
condition,  in  my  case.  But  perhaps  there's  a  quality  left 
out  of  me,  a  quality  that  other  women  possess." 

Janet  was  clearly  eager  to  carry  on  her  self-analysis, 
but  Cornelia  gave  no  sign  of  sharing  this  eagerness. 

Cornelia,  in  fact,  was  far  from  pleased.  Her  uncon- 
scious game  was  to  keep  Robert  revolving  in  an  orbit 


154  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

around  herself.  He  was  such  an  excellent  drawing  card! 
For  had  he  not  the  rare  power  of  raising  the  value  of  any 
object  or  person  he  admired?  Not  that  people  ever  credited 
hun  with  unusual  discernment  or  insight.  Yet  the  fact 
remained  that  Robert  had  only  to  praise  a  human  being 
or  a  work  of  art  hitherto  undervalued  or  overlooked,  and 
presto,  the  article  or  the  person  instantly  became  subject 
to  an  urgent  popular  demand.  This  was  one  of  the  reasons 
why  Cornelia  (who  felt  that  she  had  been  handsome  enough 
in  surrendering  Claude  without  a  murmur)  did  not  wish 
Robert  as  well  to  gravitate  from  her  stellar  system  to 
Janet's. 

But,  seeing  no  way  of  cancelling  Robert's  visit,  she  de- 
termined not  to  be  a  spectator  of  it. 

"I  must  run  in  next  door,  Janet,"  she  said,  "and  ask 
the  Gorilla  to  do  an  errand  for  me." 

She  left,  omitting  her  customary  lyrical  phrases  of  affec- 
tion. Janet  did  not  suspect  the  jealousy  behind  this 
omission.  But  she  was  undeniably  disappointed  because 
Cornelia  had  not  encouraged  her  to  discuss  her  friendships 
with  Claude  and  Robert  about  whom  her  heart  and  her 
thoughts  were  brimful. 

Thus  quickly  did  Cornelia  damp  down  the  fire  of  inti- 
macy by  treating  the  exchange  of  self-revelation  as  a  strictly 
one-sided  transaction.  She  had  (so  it  struck  Janet)  a  very 
low  opinion  of  all  confidences  —  other  than  her  own. 


II 

When  the  bell  rang,  Janet  opened  the  door  wondering 
why  Robert  had  come  an  hour  before  the  appointed  time. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  155 

But  it  was  Claude  who  entered!  He  came  in,  like  the 
god  of  the  glorious  spring  without,  in  his  gayest,  most 
engaging  mood. 

"What  luck,  to  find  you  in! "  he  cried.  "Janet,  I've  come 
in  an  open  car  on  the  chance  of  taking  you  for  a  spin  to 
Mineola  to  see  the  start  of  the  great  Cross-Continental  air- 
plane race." 

"Oh,  Claude,  how  nice  of  you.  But  —  I'm  afraid  I  can't 
go." 

"Why  not?" 

"Well  —  you  see  —  I've  promised  to  go  out  with  Robert 
this  afternoon." 

His  face  clouded. 

"And  you  never  told  me!"  escaped  from  him. 

"You  are  not  my  diarist,"  she  said,  faintly  ironical. 

"Please  forgive  me,  Janet,"  he  said,  dropping  his  posses- 
sive tone,  as  he  reminded  himself  how  touchy  she  was  about 
her  independence.  "But  I'm  disappointed,  bitterly  disap- 
pointed. I  planned  the  excursion  as  a  surprise  for  you. 
And  how  I've  counted  on  itl" 

"Not  more  than  I  long  to  go,  Claude.  But  what  can 
I  do?" 

He  took  her  hands  in  his,  and  said  eagerly: 

"Must  you  keep  the  engagement?  Can't  you  think  of 
some  excuse?  Where  on  earth  was  he  going  to  take  you 
to?" 

"To  the  Japanese  Industrial  Exhibition  at  the  Grand 
Central  Palace." 

He  made  a  contemptuous  grimace. 

"A  stuffy  exhibition!"  he  exclaimed.  "Good  Heavens, 
Janet,  why  hesitate  to  change  your  plans?  It  isn't  as  if 


!S6  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Robert  wanted  you  for  himself,  as  I  do.  He'll  under- 
stand." 

Janet  wondered  whether  Claude  would  understand  if  she 
confessed  that  she  was  actually  more  interested  in  the  Jap- 
anese Exhibition  than  in  the  cross-continent  air  race.  But 
though  she  kept  silent  on  this  point,  because  she  really 
wanted  greatly  to  go  with  Claude,  she  was  rather  troubled. 
It  was  not  easy  for  her  to  gratify  a  private  desire  at  the 
expense  of  a  social  obligation. 

"I  don't  like  to  hurt  Robert's  feelings,"  she  said,  turning 
away  in  her  indecision. 

"Oh,  very  well,  if  you  don't  wish  to  come  with  mel" 

He  flung  himself  sulkily  into  a  chair. 

Janet  was  astonished  at  his  complete  change  of  mood. 
She  might  have  felt  hurt,  had  she  not  had  a  woman's  in- 
stinctive weakness  for  spoiling  the  man  she  was  fond  of. 

She  sat  down  irresolutely,  and  reflected  that  this  would 
be  the  second  time  she  had  broken  an  engagement  with 
Robert. 

"It's  idiotic,"  he  said,  rising,  with  a  sense  of  deep  injury. 
"Here  is  the  most  sensational  race  in  a  century,  on  a  per- 
fectly glorious  day.  And  I'm  mad  to  be  with  you." 

"Perhaps  Robert  is,  too,"  she  said,  a  merry  light  dancing 
in  her  eyes. 

"Of  course,  he's  no  fool.  He'd  rather  be  with  a  wonder- 
ful girl  than  an  ordinary  one.  But  what  he  wants  more 
even  than  a  wonderful  girl  is  a  chopping-block,  any  chop- 
ping-block,  for  his  sociological  theories.  Why  on  earth  did 
you  leave  your  home,  if  all  you  crave  is  more  instruction, 
and  if  the  only  freedom  you  want  is  the  freedom  to  stand 
on  more  ceremony  than  before?" 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  157 

"That  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter,  Claude,"  said 
Janet,  refusing  to  ignore  the  truth  simply  because  it  was 
disagreeable.  "Robert  may  not  be  offended  at  finding  me 
away,  but  he  is  sure  to  be  offended  at  finding  me  rude." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  far  more  concerned  with 
Robert's  feelings  than  with  mine,"  said  Claude,  changing 
to  a  tone  of  melancholy  reproach. 

"But  I  really  haven't  a  good  excuse,  Claude,"  she  said, 
troubled,  but  still  indecisive. 

"I  know  girls  who  wouldn't  take  two  minutes  to  find  an 
excellent  one,"  he  said,  with  a  return  of  his  superior  au- 
thoritative air. 

Janet's  temptation  was  great;  greater  yet  when  Claude, 
in  his  most  handsome  and  daring  manner,  drew  her  out 
of  the  chair  and  put  an  arm  around  her  waist. 

"It's  an  occasion  in  a  million,  Janet.  I've  set  my  heart 
on  this  ride  with  you.  What  does  it  matter  what  Robert 
may  think,  or  what  anyone  may  think,  as  long  as  we 
two  want  so  much  to  be  together?  You  must  come.  I  shall 
believe  you  don't  care  a  straw  for  me,  if  you  don't." 

His  flawless  form  and  vibrant  voice  annihilated  argu- 
ment. With  a  happy  heart  but  a  guilty  conscience,  Janet 
dismissed  her  scruples. 

On  the  way  out,  she  stopped  in  at  Number  Thirteen  to 
beg  Cornelia  to  smooth  matters  over  with  Robert. 

Cornelia,  serene  and  all  smiles  again,  promised  to  do 
her  best. 

Ill 

Robert  came  home  soon  after  and,  getting  no  response 
from  Number  Fifteen,  went  to  his  own  room  in  Kelly's  suite 
next  door. 


158  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

He  got  all  the  news  from  Cornelia,  who  politely  tried 
not  to  gloat  over  his  disappointment.  She  professed  to  see 
no  reason  for  finding  fault  with  Janet's  easy  submission 
to  the  force  of  an  irresistible  attraction. 

As  it  was  fairly  plain  that  Robert  would  have  preferred 
to  be  alone,  Cornelia  perversely  lost  no  time  in  proposing 
that  he  carry  out  his  original  intention  of  visiting  the  Jap- 
anese Industrial  Exhibition,  she,  of  course,  to  take  Janet's 
place  as  his  companion. 

She  had  another  reason  for  inviting  herself  out  with 
Robert.  This  reason  was  the  Harlem  Gorilla.  He,  though 
almost  superstitiously  devoted  to  her,  sometimes  had  to  be 
"managed,"  in  accordance  with  Cornelia's  view  that  love 
makes  the  most  constant  of  men  uncertain,  coy,  and  hard 
to  please.  Luckily,  the  treatment  that  Harry  Kelly's  case 
required  was  not  a  subtle  one,  and  so  it  was  Cornelia's  prac- 
tice to  alternate  a  little  encouraging  discouragement  with 
a  little  discouraging  encouragement.  On  this  occasion,  by 
accompanying  Robert  who  didn't  want  her,  and  deserting 
Kelly  who  wanted  her  very  much,  she  neatly  killed  two 
birds  with  the  same  stone. 

On  the  way  to  the  exhibition,  Robert  gave  Cornelia  an 
account  of  his  latest  occupation.  He  had  been  made  organ- 
izing secretary  of  a  body  called  the  League  of  Guildsmen. 
Was  this  a  fanciful  name  for  another  set  of  Outlaws?  No, 
the  Guildsmen  were  servers  of  the  community,  the  Outlaws 
were  spongers  on  it. 

"You  have  golden  opinions  of  us,"  said  Cornelia,  theatri- 
cally. "I  marvel  that  you  soil  your  garments  by  staying  in 
our  midst." 

"It's  nothing  to  marvel  at,  Cornelia.    I  had  to  learn  what 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  159 

Kips  Bay  and  its  slum  population  were  at  first  hand  before 
I  could  desire  in  earnest  to  destroy  them,  root  and  branch. 
Familiarity,  which  sometimes  breeds  contempt,  often  breeds 
homicidal  mania.  Do  you  recollect  how  Caesar  spent  a 
short  vacation  among  a  band  of  desperate  pirates  and  how 
the  experience  filled  him  with  a  conviction  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  exterminate  them?  Well,  I  am  filled  with  the  same 
conviction  about  Kips  Bay." 

"What  a  passion  you  have  for  reforming  everybody  and 
everything,  Cato!  I  am  sure  it  is  a  very  noble  passion, 
though  it  does  include  poor  me  in  its  program  of  extermina- 
tion. Still,  I  wonder  whether  reform,  like  charity,  oughtn't 
to  begin  at  home?" 

"I  used  to  think  so,"  replied  Robert,  unmoved  by  her 
sarcasm.  "In  my  schooldays,  my  elders  obliged  me  to  hack 
my  way  through  obsolete  French  tragedies  or  the  differen- 
tial calculus  instead  of  allowing  me  to  gam  a  working 
knowledge  of  current  English  plays  or  of  modern  political 
economy.  And  when  I  made  a  fearful  hash  of  their  instruc- 
tion, they  voted  me  a  miserable  failure.  Whereupon,  I  de- 
termined to  reform  myself  in  order  that  I  might  reform  the 
world.  I  am  wiser  now.  I  know  that  I  must  reform  the 
world  before  I  can  hope  to  reform  myself." 

"Cato,  you  are  a  perfectly  gorgeous  mixture  of  building 
air  castles  and  of  seeing  things  upside  down!  One  can 
never  tell  whether  your  head  is  in  the  clouds  or  on  the 
ground." 

Robert  indulgently  proceeded  to  say  that  the  Guildsmen 
were  young  people  of  like  sentiments  with  his  own.  In  a 
general  way,  their  aim  was  to  advance  the  idea  that  the 
producers  and  servers  of  society,  being  the  rightful  posses- 


160  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

sors  of  the  earth,  must  eliminate  the  profiteers  and  the 
parasites  who  have  usurped  possession. 

"If  that  is  your  aim,  Robert,  I  predict  that  your  league 
and  your  secretaryship  will  have  a  short  life  and  a  merry 
one." 

Robert  laughed  and  admitted  that  he  did  not  expect  a 
long  tenure  of  office.  The  Guild  plan  was  a  European  idea 
for  which  America  was  by  no  means  ripe. 

"I  fancy  we  are  as  progressive  in  industrial  matters  as 
the  Europeans  are,"  said  Cornelia,  on  her  mettle. 

"Oh,  more  so,"  replied  Robert,  drily.  "Our  giant  indus- 
tries lead  the  world  in  maximizing  the  production  of  things 
of  a  mediocre  quality  and  the  creation  of  human  life  of  a 
contemptible  quality.  Yes,  in  crude  capacity,  we  are  ahead 
of  our  European  competitors.  But  in  political  capacity, 
we  still  lag  far  behind.  Hence  the  difficulty  of  transplant- 
ing to  our  soil  a  high-class  social  policy  like  that  of  the 
Guildsmen." 

"But  when  this  Guild  plan  dies  a  natural  death,  what 
forlorn  hope  will  you  champion  next?" 

"I  fear  there'll  be  nothing  left  but  to  throw  myself  on 
the  mercy  of  a  rich  uncle." 

"What,  an  uncle  in  a  fairy  tale?" 

"No,  an  uncle  in  California,  a  real  live  one." 

Cornelia  evinced  little  more  than  a  languid  interest  in 
Robert's  information.  Fabulously  rich  relatives — who  were 
cast  for  the  parts  of  Deus  ex  machina,  but  who  never  materi- 
alized in  flesh  or  cash — made  a  golden  splash  in  the  'scutch- 
eon of  too  many  veteran  Lorillard  inhabitants.  She  preferred 
a  conversation  dealing  with  more  tangible  personages.  Truth 
to  tell,  she  rather  hoped  that  Robert  would  try  to  undo 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  161 

the  painful  impression  he  had  made  on  her  by  his  recent 
criticism  of  her  affair  with  Percival  Houghton. 

All  the  greater  was  her  chagrin  when  he  brought  the  talk 
around  to  the  subject  of  Janet. 

IV 

He  began  adroitly  enough  by  complimenting  her  on  the 
success  with  which  she  had  made  Janet  alive  to  the  gal- 
vanic interests  of  contemporary  life.  It  was  a  miracle  of 
education,  he  assured  her,  and  he  begged  her  not  to  spoil 
the  achievement  by  converting  Janet  to  her  favorite  theory 
of  free  love.  He  hoped  she  would  rather  warn  her  friend 
of  the  folly  of  contracting  a  free  union  under  existing 
social  sanctions. 

"Like  the  majority  of  men,  you  believe  love  and  sex 
emotion  to  be  one  and  the  same  thing,"  she  retorted,  cut- 
tingly. "That's  why  you  have  no  understanding  of  what 
freedom  in  love  means." 

"Now,  Cornelia,  I  won't  be  drawn  into  a  controversy  on 
the  merits  of  free  love." 

"Then  don't  sneer  at  it." 

"I  don't.  In  fact,  like  every  healthy  young  human 
being,  I  am  by  nature  something  of  a  varietist  myself. 
But,  as  a  civilized  member  of  society,  I'm  bound  to  take 
the  institutions  of  my  country  and  generation  as  I  find 
them.  I  believe  Janet  will  be  better  off,  if  she  does  so  too. 
Let  her  set  out  to  alter  or  revolutionize  our  institutions, 
but  not  to  defy  them." 

"My  poor  Cato!  Don't  you  know  that  numbers  of  the 
young  women  of  today  are  quietly  doing  what  numbers  of 
the  young  men  have  always  done?" 


162  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Living  in  illicit  relations,  you  mean?" 

"That  is  what  a  ridiculous  man-made  custom  calls  it." 

"But,  Cornelia,  although  many  of  the  Lorillard  girls 
have  admittedly  flung  a  glove  in  the  face  of  social  conven- 
tions — " 

"I'm  not  talking  of  Lorillard  girls,  Robert.  I'm  talking 
of  teachers,  lawyers,  stenographers — the  'respectable'  girls 
who  remain  in  their  schools  and  offices  without  any  loss 
of  self-respect  or  public  esteem,  and  who  merely  do  what 
the  'respectable'  men  do,  that  is,  pay  a  mock  tribute  to 
outward  appearances,  and  go  scot  free." 

"Exactly,  Cornelia,"  said  Robert,  triumphantly.  "They 
pay  a  tribute  to  appearances.  They  quietly  disobey  exist- 
ing conventions.  But  they  don't  defy  them,  much  less  try 
to  alter  them.  They  are  frequently  their  staunchest  sup- 
porters." 

"Just  like  the  men." 

"Just  like  the  men.  But  you  are  wrong  when  you  say 
they  go  scot  free.  You  are  wrong  again  when  you  say  that 
the  tribute  they  pay  is  a  mock  tribute.  It  is  anything  but 
that.  It  is  an  endless  payment  by  installments,  a  payment 
in  degrading  stealth  and  harassing  secrecy." 

"What  are  you  driving  at?" 

"Janet  is  not  the  girl  to  pay  a  tribute  of  this  kind,"  he 
said,  with  emphasis.  "If  she  champions  the  cause  of  free 
love,  she  won't  do  so  merely  to  experience  the  ups  and 
downs  of  an  underground  existence.  She  will  do  so,  believ- 
ing it  to  be  a  wise  or  progressive  departure.  And  she  will 
defend  her  championship  in  the  teeth  of  the  whole  world, 
regardless  of  its  effect  on  her  future." 

Cornelia  received  this  speech  unmoved. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  163 

"Well,  why  shouldn't  she?"  she  said.  "Others  have 
endured  much  more  for  their  beliefs.  To  be  candid,  I  really 
don't  see  how  Janet's  behavior  concerns  you,  any  way." 

"You  forget,  Cornelia,  that  I,  too,  talked  modernism  in 
a  blue  streak  to  her  before  she  broke  with  her  people. 
And  so  I  feel  that  I  share  with  you  the  responsibility  for 
her  present  course." 

"Oh,  do  you?" 

"Yes.  There's  a  lot  of  moonshine  in  Kips  Bay  that 
passes  for  modernity.  I  think  the  least  we  can  do  is  to 
show  Janet  that  modernity  is  not  simply  a  new  watchword 
for  moonshine.  We  ought  to  prevent  her  from  being  taken 
in  by  the  illusion  which  the  Outlaws  produce  of  easy,  satis- 
fying intimacies  between  the  sexes." 

A  stream  of  silvery  laughter  escaped  Cornelia.  Then, 
in  a  studied  tone  of  superiority,  she  replied: 

"My  dear  boy,  the  love  relation  between  two  individuals 
is  strictly  their  own  private  affair.  It  is  nobody  else's 
business  whatever.  I  have  no  right  to  interfere  in  Janet's 
intimacies,  and  neither  have  you.  Anyhow,  I  believe  she 
is  quite  competent  to  stand  on  her  own  feet." 

"I'm  not  so  sure,  Cornelia.  Janet  is  utterly  different 
from  the  Lorillard  Outlaw  girl,  or  the  Greenwich  Village 
Bohemian  girl.  The  effect  of  Greenwich  Villageism  is  to 
make  irregularity  (what  regularity  so  often  is)  a  bore. 
The  purpose  of  Lorillardism  is  to  make  irregularity  pay. 
But  Janet  is  not  likely  to  adopt  a  radical  creed  merely 
as  a  pose  or  with  an  eye  to  its  profit.  She  will  adopt  it  in 
a  spirit  of  sheer  blind  self-sacrifice.  And  every  advantage 
will  be  taken  of  her,  precisely  because  she's  not  a  sex 
profiteer," 


164  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Cato,  the  beginning  of  wisdom  is  self-knowledge.  Have 
you  ever  heard  of  any  gain  in  self-knowledge  without  some 
loss  of  happiness?  No.  It  is  a  law  of  life  which  neither 
you,  nor  I,  nor  Janet  can  escape." 

"But,"  he  urged,  "you  must  admit  that  Janet's  case  is  a 
special  one.  She  has  just  left  a  home  where  purely  private 
gratifications  dictate  which  conventions  shall  be  kept;  and 
she  has  entered  this  model  tenement  life  where,  again, 
purely  private  gratifications  dictate  which  conventions  shall 
be  broken.  She  may  not  grasp  this  difference  all  at  once. 
Are  we  to  let  her  inexperience  cause  her  unnecessary  suffer- 
ing?" 

"I,  too,  have  suffered  for  my  convictions,  Robert!"  she 
said,  with  a  conclusive  gesture  of  impatience. 

Robert  felt  like  telling  her  that,  at  this  moment,  she 
reminded  him  forcibly  of  the  fox  that  had  its  tail  cut  off. 
But  he  didn't  quite  dare. 

Naturally,  under  the  circumstances,  the  visit  to  the 
Grand  Central  Palace  was  a  complete  failure.  Cornelia, 
loathing  the  exhibition,  seized  the  first  available  excuse  for 
asking  to  be  taken  home. 

The  resentment  she  harbored  was  too  strong  to  be  hidden 
beneath  the  ordinary  civilities  of  polite  intercourse.  Her 
affection  for  Robert,  which  had  long  been  hanging  by  a 
slender  thread,  was  now  sharply  snapped  through  the  com- 
plete revulsion  of  feeling  she  experienced  towards  him. 

From  her  point  of  view,  the  fault  was  entirely  his.  She 
had  always  hated  what  she  termed  his  moralistic  nature. 
But  never  before  had  he  shown  such  a  callous  want  of 
sympathy  with  her  past  misfortunes  or  such  a  frank  hos- 
tility to  her  present  outlook  on  life.  What  she  did  not 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  165 

acknowledge  to  herself  was  that  his  concern  for  Janet  had 
given  her  amour  propre  a  mortal  wound  for  which  she  could 
never  forgive  him. 

On  their  return  to  the  Lorillard  tenements,  she  promptly 
called  Harry  Kelly  into  Number  Fifteen.  The  Harlem 
Gorilla  (renicknamed  Hercules  as  a  mark  of  favor)  was 
highly  flattered  and  only  too  willing  to  be  a  listener  and 
a  comforter. 

"Robert  is  getting  to  be  quite  impossible!"  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  lurid  Belasco  intonation.  "I  can't  imagine  what  has 
come  over  him,  or  why  he  continues  to  honor  the  Outlaws 
with  his  presence,  seeing  that  he  is  now  an  enemy  of  free- 
dom and  not  a  friend  of  it.  Hercules,  will  you  believe  it, 
he  cannot  hear  the  word  Lorillard  so  much  as  mentioned 
without  showing  the  cloven  hoof." 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 


While  Robert  and  Cornelia  were  going  to  and  from  the 
Grand  Central  Palace,  Claude's  car  was  carrying  its  occu- 
pants through  pleasant  stretches  of  Long  Island  country 
to  the  Mineola  aerodrome.  The  day,  the  air,  the  landscape, 
and  the  man  conspired  to  make  the  occasion  an  intoxicating 
one  for  Janet. 

Claude's  gayety  and  personal  charm  were  fully  matched 
by  his  perfect  ease.  This  was  the  quality  that  magnetized 
her,  it  was  so  new  in  her  experience  of  American  men.  The 
men  she  had  known  in  Brooklyn,  struggling  professional 
and  business  men,  wore  their  manners  as  they  did  their 
Sunday  clothes,  with  a  painful  effect  of  unfamiliarity.  Their 
behavior  was  as  different  from  Claude's  as  a  sputtering 
torch  is  from  an  arc  light. 

In  the  company  of  women,  these  men  were  nearly  always 
ill  at  ease.  Sometimes  they  acted  obtrusively  protective 
or  aggressively  possessive,  more  frequently  they  were  appre- 
hensive, timid  or  even  pitiably  afraid.  Whatever  they  did, 
they  did  with  constraint.  And  they  never  seemed  able  to 
forget  the  towering  fact  that  their  manhood  had  an  eco- 
nomic value.  They  were  as  painfully  conscious  of  this 
asset  as  an  elderly  maiden  is  of  her  chastity — and  they 
guarded  it  with  the  same  zeal. 

Janet  was  inexpressibly  thankful  that  Claude  had  never 
treated  her  as  if  she  belonged  to  an  unknown  or  unclassified 
species,  and  that  he  was  not  constantly  filled  with  a  nervous 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  167 

dread  that  she  might  at  any  moment  begin  picking  his 
soul,  if  not  his  pocket. 

They  talked  of  everything  under  the  sun;  she  of  her 
childhood,  her  school  days,  her  aspirations;  he  of  social  or 
artistic  doings  in  and  about  New  York,  with  the  more 
notable  and  distinctive  of  which  he  had  a  first-hand 
familiarity.  But  no  matter  how  sober  or  philosophic  the 
topic  chosen,  it  was  sure,  in  some  mysterious  way,  to  be 
sidetracked  into  the  catechism  of  love. 

Janet  had  all  she  could  do  to  keep  matters  from  taking 
too  amorous  a  turn.  It  was  delicious  to  be  made  love  to 
as  audaciously  as  only  Claude  could.  It  was  great  fun 
to  tremble  on  the  quicksilvery  margin  between  how  much 
he  dared  and  how  little  she  permitted.  And  it  was  her 
native  mother  wit  rather  than  her  instinct  that  set  a  limit 
to  his  impetuous  wooing. 

As  soon  as  they  reached  the  aerodrome,  Claude  became 
a  more  conventionally  courteous  cavalier  again.  And  Janet 
got  a  glimpse  of  a  section  of  his  life  to  which  she  had 
hardly  given  any  thought. 

II 

The  Trans-Continental  Air  Race  had  been  widely  adver- 
tised, and  the  gigantic  aerodrome  was  jammed  with  excited 
crowds.  Claude  at  once  plunged  his  companion  into  the 
thick  of  things.  Anybody  and  everybody  appeared  to  know 
him,  and  he  knew  everybody  who  was  anybody.  In  swift 
succession  Janet  was  introduced  to  the  superintendent  of  the 
grounds,  the  president  of  the  Aero  Club,  the  chief  contes- 
tants of  the  day,  several  foreign  aviators  of  renown,  the 
naval  officer  who  commanded  the  first  "blimp"  across  the 


168  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Atlantic,  and  to  so  many  other  notabilities  that  her  head 
began  to  whirl. 

Once  or  twice  Claude  left  her  to  pay  special  homage  to 
some  lady,  frequently  an  elderly  one  and  a  personage  of 
uncommon  account.  In  these  intervals,  while  standing  a 
little  away  from  the  throbbing,  bewildering  spectacle  around 
her,  she  attempted  to  give  some  perspective  to  her  im- 
pressions. 

It  was  gradually  clear  to  her  that  the  spectators  resolved 
themselves  into  two  classes:  first,  the  hoi  polli  whose 
teeming  throngs  pushed  along  the  common  passageways 
and  packed  the  benches  in  the  stands  to  the  point  of  suffo- 
cation; and  then  a  small,  compact  group  of  men  and 
women  whose  breeding,  dress  and  carriage  would  have 
differentiated  them  from  the  other  spectators  even  if  the 
weather-beaten  air  of  superiority  with  which  they  prome- 
naded within  the  fenced-off  and  sacrosanct  places,  had  not 
sufficiently  done  so. 

Superficially,  the  attitude  of  these  chosen  ones  towards 
the  gallery  was  the  attitude  of  actors  towards  an  audience: 
they  affected  to  be  oblivious  of  its  existence,  and  yet  it  was 
patent  that  they  were  greedily  conscious  of  the  snobbish 
admiration  and  flattering  envy  which  the  crowd  radiated 
collectively  and  in  its  component  parts. 

Janet  watched  these  bankers  and  railroad  directors  and 
senators  with  their  wives  and  daughters  urbanely  encircling 
the  placid  airplanes,  the  restive  airmen  and  the  little  extra 
demonstrations  for  the  elect.  And  it  seemed  to  her  that 
they  appropriated  the  special  privileges  inseparable  from 
the  governors  of  a  democracy  with  an  affably  paternal  air 
which  was  as  much  as  to  say:  "What  a  very  democratic 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  169 

ruling-class  it  is  that  runs  this  very  democratic  nation." 
Of  course  she  knew  that  they  were  not  really  thinking 
this.  Seeing  that  they  were  the  ruling  class,  they  ought  to 
have  weighty,  superior  problems  of  finance,  transportation 
or  statesmanship  at  the  back  of  their  minds.  Had  they? 
Or  were  they  merely  thinking  that  unless  they  were  on  the 
qui  vive  they  might  be  caught  in  an  awkward  pose  by  one 
of  the  brigade  of  camera  men  who  were  photographing 
celebrities  for  the  Sunday  pictorial  supplements  and  the 
cinema  current  topics. 

Janet  perceived  also  that  the  faces  of  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  of  the  plutocracy,  though  set  in  hard  lines  and 
wreathed  in  hard  smiles,  were,  on  the  whole,  much  less 
hard  than  the  faces  of  the  poorer  middle-class  people  among 
whom  she  lived  and  moved  and  had  her  being.  Their 
complexions  were  far  better,  too.  And  they  were  healthier 
and  robuster  and  decidedly  cleaner  and  politer. 

Politer,  but  not  better  mannered.  Temporarily,  Janet 
might  have  been  deceived  by  the  surface  courtesy  with 
which  the  men  approached  one  another  and  the  ceaseless 
vehemence  with  which  the  women  talked  and  smiled,  or 
rather,  exhibited  the  whole  of  a  fine  set  of  front  teeth  from 
the  top  of  the  upper  row  to  the  tip  of  the  nether  gum.  But 
when  she  had  mingled  with  them  at  Claude's  side,  these 
same  ladies  that  paraded  their  toothful  smiles  so  amiably 
for  the  photographer's  benefit,  had  politely  but  uncannily 
looked  her  through  and  through  in  the  most  literal  sense 
of  the  words.  To  put  it  bluntly,  they  had  instantly  sized 
her  up  as  an  intruder  from  a  sphere  they  had  no  personal 
contact  with.  True,  they  murmured  the  necessary  courte- 
ous phrases,  but  they  did  so  to  a  creature  whose  common 


170  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

humanity  with  themselves  their  glances  insolently  and  em- 
phatically denied. 

Had  Claude  sensed  this,  and  left  her  alone  to  spare  her 
(and  perhaps  himself)  embarrassment?  The  question  made 
her  feel  uneasy  and  disconcerted.  It  also  made  her  wish 
him  back,  in  the  hope  that  his  presence  would  restore  her 
confidence.  What  was  keeping  him  so  long  this  time?  By 
way  of  finding  an  answer,  her  eyes  searched  him  out  among 
the  machines. 

She  saw  him,  not  very  far  away,  in  the  midst  of  a  group 
of  three  other  people:  a  couple  in  the  prime  of  life,  who 
were  obviously  the  parents  of  a  young  lady  of  about  Janet's 
own  age.  The  attention  of  the  daughter  was  fixed  detain- 
ingly  on  Claude;  that  of  the  parents  was  fastened  proudly 
on  their  daughter. 

Thanks  to  a  fine  eyesight,  Janet  was  enabled  to  get  an 
excellent  view  of  the  young  lady's  appearance. 

She  was  a  tall,  light  brunette,  and  her  frock,  her  sulky 
discontented  mouth  and  her  affectation  of  stateliness  were 
all  highly  fashionable.  So  was  her  face,  which  had  a  toler- 
ably clear  skin  and  otherwise  neither  a  noticeable  blemish 
nor  a  spark  of  fire.  It  was  the  kind  of  standard  feminine 
face  just  common  enough  in  America  to  fit  the  popular 
conception  of  beauty  and  just  enough  above  the  common 
to  be  in  constant  request  by  illustrators  as  a  model  for 
the  covers  of  monthly  magazines. 

It  struck  Janet  that  she  was  making  some  demand  upon 
Claude  which  was  taxing  his  charm  and  diplomacy  to  the 
utmost.  Eventually,  as  he  took  leave  of  the  group,  she 
abruptly  turned  away  from  him,  the  back  of  her  shoulders 
expressing  the  most  intense  vexation. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  171 

III 

Soon  thereafter  he  was  at  Janet's  side  again,  looking 
somewhat  harrassed. 

"Those  were  the  Armstrongs  and  their  daughter,  Mar- 
jorie,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  her  look  of  curiosity. 

"Who  are  the  Armstrongs?" 

Claude  was  taken  aback  by  this  question.  In  his  world, 
where  everybody  knew  everybody  else,  the  bare  name  of 
Armstrong  had  a  very  definite  and  compact  meaning. 

"Dear  little  ignoramus!  The  Dupont  Armstrongs,  of 
course." 

This  addition  meant  very  little  more  to  Janet,  although 
it  rekindled  a  vague  memory  that  she  had  seen  the  name 
somewhere  in  the  newspapers.  Politely  concealing  his  won- 
derment, Claude  explained  more  at  length. 

He  said  that  Colonel  Dupont  Armstrong  came  of  an  old 
Southern  family,  and  was  the  active  head  of  the  great  firm 
of  Harmon,  Armstrong  &  Co.,  the  international  bankers 
whose  financial  power  had  built  golden  bridges  between 
continents.  His  wife  had  a  passion  for  collecting  exquisite 
jewels;  he  had  a  mania  for  hoarding  Chinese  vases.  But 
the  operation  of  his  esthetic  taste  being  unreliable,  he  had 
struck  up  an  intimacy  with  Claude's  father  soon  after  he 
discovered  this  gentleman  to  be  a  thoroughly  dependable 
guide.  In  time,  he  became  a  regular  patron  of  the  Fontaine 
galleries  and  his  purchases  of  diamonds,  necklaces  and  por- 
celains had  contributed  appreciably  to  Mr.  Fontaine's  for- 
tune. 

Janet's  curiosity  in  respect  of  worldly  matters  was  much 
more  quickly  satisfied  than  her  curiosity  in  respect  of 
people. 


172  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Is  Mr.  Armstrong's  daughter  as  charming  as  she  looks?" 
she  asked  Claude  at  the  end  of  his  explanation. 

"Well,  most  men  think  so,"  said  Claude,  smiling.  "Mar- 
jorie  is  undoubtedly  very  beautiful  and  fully  conscious  of 
the  fact.  You  may  have  seen  her  portrait  by  Ben  Ali 
Haggin  in  the  last  Academy  exhibition?  It  was  a  tone 
poem  in  russet  brown,  quite  the  stir  of  the  season." 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry  I  missed  it.  I've  never  been  to  an 
Academy  exhibition,  Claude." 

"How  amazing!    Not  even  to  one?" 

"Not  even  to  one.  Imagine  how  hopelessly  ignorant  I 
am  of  art!" 

"Art!  People  don't  go  to  the  Academy  in  quest  of  art, 
you  dear  innocent.  It  would  be  a  waste  of  effort.  They  go 
as  a  compliment  to  their  friends  whose  portraits  have  been 
painted,  not  as  a  tribute  to  the  men  who  painted  them." 

But  Janet  was  not  to  be  deflected  from  her  purpose. 

"I  played  the  spy  whilst  your  back  was  turned,"  she  said, 
"and  watched  your  pretty  friend  closely.  She  was  evidently 
displeased  with  you.  What  had  you  done?" 

"Absolutely  nothing.  That's  just  Marjorie's  way  when 
she  can't  have  all  she  wants  —  which  seldom  happens." 

"Then  she  wanted  you?" 

"Yes,  for  some  party  or  other.  But  I'm  not  going  to 
leave  you  merely  to  gratify  a  passing  whim  of  hers.  Any- 
how, it  isn't  so  much  a  case  of  wanting  me  to  be  with  her, 
as  of  wanting  me  not  to  be  with  anybody  else." 

"Rather  dog-in-the-mangerish,  isn't  it?" 

"Oh,  all  the  tyrants  of  the  earth  are  like  that,  especially 
the  fascinating  feminine  tyrants,"  replied  Claude,  in  an 
attempt  to  recapture  his  good  spirits. 


THE    LOVE    CHASE  173 

But  it  was  plain  that  his  mood  had  radically  changed. 
For  the  remainder  of  their  stay  he  was  preoccupied  and  his 
gayety  was  forced. 

The  cloud  that  this  cast  over  their  outing  was  not  fully 
lifted  that  day.  Outwardly  Claude  recovered  his  equipoise 
and,  on  the  way  home,  tried  to  make  up  for  his  earlier 
abstraction  by  a  deepened  tenderness  towards  his  compan- 
ion. But  something  was  manifestly  weighing  on  his  mind. 
Janet  herself  was  in  a  pensive  mood.  She  had  been  quick 
to  discern  that  in  Claude's  manner  towards  Marjorie  Arm- 
strong and  the  other  young  women  of  his  own  set  there  was 
an  inexpressible  something  which  was  absent  from  his 
manner  towards  her. 

This  troubled  and  dissatisfied  her.  True,  Claude  no 
longer  ventured  to  treat  her  as  flippantly  as  he  treated 
Mazie  Ross.  But  neither  did  he  treat  her  as  finely  as  he 
treated  Marjorie  Armstrong.  Why  was  this?  Did  Claude 
still  misinterpret  her  considered  expression  of  disbelief  in 
marriage?  She  had  a  passionate  longing  to  give  love  and 
to  receive  love  on  a  plane  worlds  above  material  consider- 
ations. Could  no  masculine  mind  grasp  the  reality  of  this 
simple  passion  in  a  modern  girl's  heart?  Was  it  possible 
that  her  freedom  from  the  vulgar  commercial  associations 
of  love  was  precisely  what  cheapened  her  to  such  as 
Claude? 

The  thought  was  ironic,  it  was  maddening,  it  burrowed 
into  one's  soul.  But  it  did  not  rob  Janet  of  her  self- 
approval.  She  set  a  high  value  on  her  integrity,  and  she 
was  secretly  resolved  that  by  no  mere  man  should  this 
value  lightly  be  set  aside. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 
I 

The  Fontaine  galleries  occupied  a  conspicuous  building 
on  Fifth  Avenue  above  the  Forties.  It  was  one  of  the  show 
places  in  New  York's  principal  show  street,  and  it  received 
a  daily  stream  of  visitors  as  much  for  the  sumptuousness 
of  its  interior  appointments  as  for  the  worth  of  its  stock 
and  its  exhibitions. 

Mr.  Rene  Fontaine  had  inherited  the  business  from  his 
father,  who  had  left  France  in  his  boyhood  and  had  begun 
in  a  small  way  as  a  jeweler  on  lower  Sixth  Avenue.  The 
founder  of  the  house  had  built  up  a  fashionable  trade  in 
pearls  and  precious  stones  and,  having  a  strong  private 
fancy  for  certain  kinds  of  ceramic  ware,  had  been  led  into 
adding  a  department  of  rare  porcelains. 

After  the  death  of  the  founder,  the  business  was  incorpo- 
rated. Mr.  Rene,  as  president  of  the  firm,  continued  his 
father's  twofold  policy  with  such  success  that,  when  the 
uptown  trend  of  high-class  trade  necessitated  a  change  of 
quarters,  Fontaine  and  Company  transferred  their  estab- 
lishment to  one  of  the  choicest  corners  of  Fifth  Avenue. 
Here  the  ceramic  and  other  works  of  art  were  displayed 
in  galleries  on  the  second  floor.  And  the  patronage  of  these 
galleries  was  so  profitable  that  Claude  had  persuaded  his 
father  to  open  a  gallery  for  paintings  on  the  third  floor 
and  let  him  conduct  the  new  department. 

Mr.  Fontaine  was  a  fastidious  man  and  a  stickler  for 


THE    LOVE    CHASE  175 

appearances,  particularly  British  appearances.  The  fash- 
ionable set  in  New  York  aped  English  manners,  and  con- 
sequently, the  door  attendant  at  Fontaine's  was  an  English 
youth  and  the  salesmen  in  the  art  departments  were  Eng- 
lishmen with  consciously  superior  airs  fortified  by  British 
university  educations,  Oxford  accents  and  modish  London 
clothes. 

A  humble  art  lover  on  a  visit  to  the  galleries  might  easily 
have  been  frightened  off  by  the  sumptuous  appointments, 
or  overawed  by  seven  or  eight  swagger  young  gentlemen 
who  would  eloquently  ignore  him  as  he  crossed  their  several 
posts.  They  might  have  been  so  many  heirs  to  dukedoms 
engaged  in  a  feeble  game  of  passing  themselves  off  as  pro- 
saic American  commoners.  Yet  they  could  pay  a  very 
flattering  attention  to  multimillionaires,  especially  of  the 
feminine  gender;  and  these,  as  their  astute  employer  knew, 
they  attracted  in  considerable  numbers. 

Moving  in  and  out  among  his  father's  young  men,  Claude 
might  readily  have  passed  for  one  of  them.  He  was  like 
them  in  the  ingratiating,  physical  appearance  that  comes 
from  a  systematic  cultivation  of  the  body,  and  his  accent, 
if  not  of  an  Oxford,  was  of  a  Harvard  flavor.  The  only  real 
difference  was  that  he  was  several  degrees  less  arrogant  — 
not  that  humility  was  one  of  his  specialties,  by  any  means. 

II 

About  ten  days  after  the  Mineola  outing  he  was  seated 
at  his  desk,  opening  the  morning's  mail.  Two  letters  caught 
his  eye.  One,  from  Marjorie  Armstrong,  supplemented  Mr. 
Armstrong's  invitation  to  the  two  Fontaines  to  attend  a 


176  THE    LOVE    CHASE 

week-end  party  in  the  Armstrong's  Long  Island  home.  The 
other  was  a  note  from  Cornelia,  reading: 

"Lothario,  remember  your  appointment  with  us  this 
evening.  We  shall  sup  al  fresco  in  the  Japanese  pagoda 
on  the  Lorillard  roof —  Araminta,  Hercules  and  you  will 
be  the  guests  of  honor.  Only  the  chosen  few  are  invited: 
Lydia,  Charlotte,  Robert  and  the  invisible  Pryor.  A  special 
attraction  has  been  provided  after  supper — if  indeed  you 
need  an  attraction  other  than  the  piteous  spectacle  of 
Araminta  pining  away  for  you. 

Cornelia. 

This  operatic  reminder  was  much  more  welcome  to 
Claude  than  Marjorie's  frigid  message.  Cornelia's  latest 
party  —  parties  trod  on  one  another's  heels  in  the  model 
tenements  —  was  in  celebration  of  Janet's  admission  to  the 
society  of  the  Outlaws.  Everybody  counted  on  Claude  to 
be  the  bright  particular  meteor  of  the  occasion.  Yet  how 
was  he  to  follow  his  natural  inclination  without  offending 
his  father,  to  say  nothing  of  Colonel  Armstrong  and  Mar- 
jorie? 

He  turned  over  a  volume  of  Muther's  History  of  Paint- 
ing and,  while  staring  vacantly  into  its  pages,  raked  his 
mind  for  a  diplomatic  escape  from  attendance  at  the  Arm- 
strongs' party.  He  was  still  far  from  successful,  when  his 
father  approached  to  transact  a  little  business.  This  set- 
tled, Claude  referred  to  a  Van  Gogh  he  had  lately  bought 
for  $5,000.  Mr.  Fontaine's  face  puckered  quizzically. 

"You  are  worse  than  the  prodigal  son,"  he  said.  "That 
young  man  squandered  his  patrimony  on  real  extravagances, 
while  you  fritter  yours  away  on  unreal  mockeries." 

"Did  you  look  at  it,  father?" 


THE  LOVE    CHASE  177 

"Bless  my  soul,  no.  Its  mere  presence  in  the  house  is 
enough  to  upset  me.  As  soon  as  I  learned  of  its  arrival,  I 
looked  at  a  copy  of  Ruisdael's  "Mill"  for  ten  minutes  to 
steady  my  nerves.  Whenever  I  hear  of  one  of  your  modern 
pictures,  I  steal  comfort  from  an  ancient  one." 

"But  you  can't  judge  a  picture  without  seeing  it,"  remon- 
strated Claude. 

"My  boy,  you  once  induced  me  to  spend  ten  minutes  at 
a  Matisse  exhibition  in  Stieglitz's  Little  Secession  Gallery. 
What  I  saw  there  was  one  horrible  libel  on  humanity  after 
another.  That  will  last  me  a  lifetime,  thank  you." 

Claude  laughed.  He  and  his  father  got  along  admirably 
by  rarely  pursuing  an  argument  beyond  its  illogical  con- 
clusion. 

"What  have  you  done  with  my  particular  'libel'?" 

"I  had  it  sent  upstairs,  to  join  your  other  atrocities  in 
the  Chamber  of  Indecencies." 

This  was  a  nickname  Mr.  Rene  Fontaine  applied  to  a 
little  room  on  the  top  floor  where  Claude  had  hung  various 
"finds"  in  the  later  Impressionist,  Cubist  and  Futurist 
styles. 

"Tomb,  not  chamber,"  said  Claude.  "Everything  there 
is  practically  buried." 

"Not  at  all.  Your  friends  are  forever  trotting  upstairs. 
I  even  send  people  there  myself.  Only  yesterday  I  invited 
J.  Tuyler  Harmon  to  go  up.  He  said  he  enjoyed  himself 
hugely." 

"What  brought  the  old  rogue  in  here  again?" 

"His  mistress.  She's  one  of  the  chief  patronesses  of  the 
Religion  and  Forward  movement.  She  had  to  attend  a 
committee  meeting  downtown.  He  escorted  her  from  her 


178  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

apartments  in  the  Plaza  and  waited  here  for  her  until  the 
committee  adjourned.  Out  of  that  waiting  I  made  several 
handsome  sales  — but  not  of  your  pictures." 

"Thus  religion  and  art,"  said  Claude,  "are  reconciled  by 
the  Mammon  of  Unrighteousness." 

Ill 

This  reflection  was  lost  on  Mr.  Fontaine,  whose  thoughts 
had  switched  to  another  line.  He  reminded  Claude  of  the 
party  they  were  to  attend  on  the  Armstrong  estate  in 
Huntington,  Long  Island. 

"Can't  you  lunch  with  me  at  one,  Claude?"  he  asked  in 
an  excellent  humor.  "Then  we'll  take  the  train  together." 

"I'm  sorry,  father,  but  I  have  another  engagement  this 
afternoon." 

He  elaborated  the  urgency  of  the  matter  with  an  anxiety 
that  Mr.  Fontaine  was  quick  to  detect. 

"An  invitation  from  Armstrong  Hall,  Claude,  is  like  an 
invitation  from  Windsor  Castle,"  he  said,  smiling.  "It 
cancels  all  previous  matters  except  matters  of  life  and 
death." 

"I  never  felt  less  like  breaking  my  word,"  countered  the 
younger  man  obstinately. 

Mr.  Fontaine  did  not  press  the  point.  His  easy  life  and 
lucrative  business  had  enabled  him  to  cultivate  certain 
expensive  reticences.  It  pained  him  to  drive  anyone  into 
a  corner.  As  regards  the  three  stages  of  paternal  activity  — 
the  interrogative,  the  declarative  and  the  imperative — he 
held  that  a  competent  father  need  rarely  go  beyond  the 
first  two.  Besides,  he  had  found  by  experience  that,  if 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  179 

he  took  a  determined  stand,  his  son  frequently  yielded  to 
the  mere  pressure  of  silent  expectation. 

Mr.  Fontaine,  who  had  been  a  widower  for  ten  years, 
habitually  gave  great  latitude  to  Claude,  his  only  son, 
of  whom  he  was  genuinely  fond.  He  frankly  made  "keep- 
ing up  appearances"  the  basis  of  all  conduct.  Apart  from 
that,  he  had  a  naive  Rousselian  theory  of  education,  to  the 
effect  that,  if  you  let  a  young  man  indulge  all  his  whims 
and  passions  to  the  top  of  his  bent,  he  will  settle  down  at 
thirty  or  thereabouts  to  a  sane  and  steady  career. 

As  refined  tastes  and  good  physical  habits  came  natural 
to  Claude,  the  operation  of  this  theory  had  done  him  no 
bodily  harm;  bui  it  had  trained  him  to  an  exaggerated 
concern  for  his  own  desires  and  an  enormous  ignorance  of 
other  people's.  Opposition  to  his  stronger  wishes  was  so 
rare  that,  when  it  occurred,  he  was  tempted  to  regard  it 
as  wicked,  and  hence  to  crush  it  with  a  close  approach  to 
a  feeling  of  self-righteousness.  To  put  it  shortly,  he  had 
the  makings  of  a  first-class  tyrant,  and  he  would  have 
become  a  vicious  one  if  his  will  had  been  as  pronounced 
as  his  desires. 

"You  haven't  had  a  tiff  with  Marjorie?"  asked  the  father, 
with  a  casual  air. 

"No,"  said  Claude.  "We  haven't  quarrelled  in  three 
months." 

"But  you  haven't  seen  her  more  than  once  or  twice  in 
that  time." 

"That's  why,  father!" 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you're  not  on  bad  terms  with 
her,  anyhow,"  repeated  Mr.  Fontaine,  a  deep  interest  be- 
neath his  affected  unconcern. 


180  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Oh,  no.  On  as  good  terms  as  she'll  allow.  I  don't 
know  whether  you've  observed  it,  father,  but  it  isn't  easy 
to  break  through  Marjorie's  reserve." 

"You  don't  mean  she's  a  cold  nature!" 

"Only  when  Lord  Dunbar  is  around." 

The  trace  of  petulance  in  this  reply  was  the  scar  of 
an  old  wound.  Claude,  always  first  among  his  rivals  on  the 
battlefield  of  love,  had  once  been  obliged  to  yield  the 
supremacy.  This  had  happened  about  a  year  before,  when 
the  young  Earl  of  Dunbar  came  to  Newport  in  Marjorie's 
train.  With  two  fine  strings  to  her  bow,  Marjorie  actually 
made  Claude  her  second  string.  This  sensation  had  been 
the  talk  of  the  smart  set  from  Bar  Harbor  to  Palm  Beach. 
And  Claude  had  never  quite  forgiven  the  very  serious  blow 
to  his  pride. 

Mr.  Rene  Fontaine  had  no  fault  to  find  with  Marjorie's 
supercilious  airs  and  snobbish  predelictions.  He  liked  and 
admired  her  unreservedly  and  thought  it  quite  natural  that, 
in  choosing  a  husband,  she  should  prefer  a  titled  English- 
man to  a  Yankee  commoner.  Why  not?  That  London  was 
the  real  capital  of  American  fashionable  society  was,  after 
all,  a  fact  no  socially  ambitious  American  girl  could  be 
expected  to  ignore. 

"I  don't  think  she  ever  cared  for  Dunbar,"  ventured  Mr. 
Fontaine.  "At  all  events,  he's  gone." 

"Gone!" 

"He  sailed  for  England  yesterday.  I've  just  heard  it 
from  Mr.  Armstrong." 

"Good  Lord!"  exclaimed  Claude,  walking  up  and  down 
in  marked  agitation. 

"My  dear  boyl"  cried  Mr.  Fontaine,  uncertain  as  to  the 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  181 

cause  of  his  son's  emotions,  "she  didn't  take  him  after  all." 

"No.  Probably  she  couldn't.  I  dare  say  she  means  to 
take  me,  now." 

"Why,  Claude,  everybody  supposed  you  two  were  as 
good  as  engaged  long  before  this  Englishman  came  over." 

"So  we  were  —  before  he  came." 

"Well?" 

"Well  — he  came." 

"Really,  Claude—" 

"I  mean,  she  preferred  him  to  me.  I  don't  blame  her. 
He  had  more  to  offer." 

"What  had  that  to  do  with  it?" 

"Everything.  He's  a  British  nobleman.  I'm  only  an 
ordinary  American.  He's  got  the  entree  of  the  best  London 
circles.  I've  only  the  entree  of  the  best  New  York." 

"That's  a  very  unkind  thing  to  say  of  Marjorie.  I've 
known  her  since  she  was  a  baby.  She  has  her  faults.  But 
heartless  calculation  is  not  one  of  them." 

Mr.  Fontaine's  indignation  did  not  sound  convincing. 
Like  Claude,  he  knew  that  Marjorie  would  not  hesitate  to 
sacrifice  her  feelings  to  her  social  ambitions. 

"I  don't  say  it's  a  fault,"  protested  Claude.  "She  had 
the  right  to  change  her  mind.  For  women,  the  business 
side  of  marriage  is  the  most  important  side,  since  marriage 
establishes  them  in  life  positions.  I  find  it  perfectly  natural, 
therefore,  that  they  should  knock  themselves  down  to  the 
highest  bidder." 

This  was  a  sentiment  he  had  adopted,  with  his  own 
modifications,  from  Robert  Lloyd. 

"Don't  be  cynical,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Fontaine.  "Busi- 
ness is  business,  but  family  life  is  quite  another  thing." 


182  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"I  agree  with  you,  father,"  said  Claude,  pacifically.  "As 
I  said  before,  I  don't  blame  Marjorie.  And  I'm  not  too 
proud  to  be  her  second  choice." 

"That's  the  way  to  talk.  Second  choice,  like  second 
thought,  is  often  the  sounder." 

"Only,  it  happens  that  when  she  changed  her  sentiments, 
7  changed  mine,  too." 

"You  mean  there's  some  other  girl?" 

"In  a  way — yes,"  replied  Claude,  awkwardly. 

Then,  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  he  plunged  into 
an  account  of  Janet  Barr. 

IV 

Mr.  Fontaine  was  distinctly  uneasy.  But  he  concealed 
his  emotion  as  well  as  he  could. 

"You  haven't  any  wild  plan  of  marrying  this  young 
woman?"  he  said,  adopting  the  air  of  a  judicious  outsider. 
"I  like  her  better  than  any  girl  I  ever  met." 
"My  boy,  is  that  a  good  reason  for  marrying  her?    Take 
the  word  of  an  elderly  man:  It  isn't  worth  while  to  marry 
solely  for  love,  because  you  are  bound  to  fall  in  love  with 
somebody  else  as  soon  as  the  honeymoon  is  over." 
"'If  not  for  love,  what  is  one  to  marry  for?" 
"Why,  for  compatability,  position,  money  —  these  are 
the  considerations  that  wise  men  weigh." 

Both  were  silent  for  a  while,  Claude  thinking  sardonically 
of  his  father's  charge  that  his  view  of  family  life  was  too 
materialistic.    Then  Mr.  Fontaine  resumed  his  objections. 
"How  do  you  intend  to  support  the  young  lady?" 
"Surely  my  interest  in  the  firm  is  enough." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  183 

"You  never  made  a  bigger  mistake,  Claude.  Perhaps 
the  fault  is  mine,  though.  For  I  have  never  driven  home 
to  you  the  relative  value  of  an  income  of  twelve  thousand 
a  year.  That  is  what  you've  been  spending." 

"Good  Heavens,  father!     You  exaggerate,  surely." 

"Not  in  the  least.  I  am  in  the  habit  of  keeping  very 
careful  accounts,  a  habit  it  would  do  you  no  harm  to 
acquire.  Let  me  remind  you  that  your  new  car  cost  five 
thousand  dollars.  That  puts  your  weekly  outgo  roughly 
at  a  hundred  and  fifty,  of  which  your  chauffeur  alone  gets 
fifty." 

"I'll  cut  down  my  extravagances!  Besides,  two  can  live 
more  economically  than  one." 

"Can  they?  Well,  just  try  it,  my  boy!  I  fear  you've 
picked  up  that  idea  in  some  novel.  But  don't  forget  that 
all  novels  are  written  by  middle-class  people  and  reflect 
middle-class  notions  of  economy.  Possibly  a  middle-class 
couple  can  save  if  they  double  up  in  one  sordid  flat,  sleep 
in  one  bed,  limit  their  amusements  to  the  few  which  please 
both,  compromise  on  the  one  or  two  friends  whom  neither 
dislikes  too  much,  and  generally  lead  the  spiritual  life  of 
the  Siamese  twins.  But  this  can't  be  done  in  our  class! 
With  us,  the  diverse  activities  and  needs  of  husband  and 
wife  make  expenses  for  two  run  four  times  as  high  as 
expenses  for  one." 

Mr.  Fontaine  returned  significantly  to  the  assertion  that 
he  was  in  no  position  to  play  the  benevolent  father.  He 
would  not  deny  that  the  firm  was  doing  business  on  a  mag- 
nificent scale.  But  magnificence  was  costly,  on  the  debit 
side  as  well  as  on  the  credit  side.  There  were  ferocities  of 
competition  that  were  slicing  off  the  safe  margins  of  profits, 


184  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

besides  pressing  the  management  into  transactions  involving 
a  peculiar  risk. 

"Risk!"  exclaimed  Claude,  greatly  surprised. 

Ha  begged  his  father  to  remember  the  huge  dividends 
recently  declared  on  Fontaine  &  Company's  stock. 

"I  didn't  say  financial  risk.  There's  a  tremendous  legal 
risk." 

Mr.  Fontaine  felt  that  the  time  had  come  for  Claude 
to  learn  more  of  the  technique  of  a  big  business  in  jewelry 
and  the  fine  arts.  He  pointed  out  that  the  war  had  caused 
a  substantial  reduction  in  the  demand  for  luxuries  accom- 
panied by  a  substantial  increase  in  the  tax  upon  them.  And 
he  asked  his  son  if  he  had  never  wondered  why,  in  the 
face  of  this  handicap,  the  firm's  post-war  profits  had  ex- 
ceeded the  records  of  pre-war  years. 

"Yes,  it  did  puzzle  me,"  admitted  Claude.  "But  there's 
so  much  wizardry  in  your  management  of  the  business — " 

"No  wizardry  at  all.  One  or  two  of  the  biggest  firms 
land  their  prizes  without  the  Customs  House  being  a  penny 
the  wiser." 

Claude  made  a  wild  movement  to  rise,  but  fell  back  in 
his  chair  again. 

"Then  that  blackguard  was  right,"  he  cried,  his  face 
ashen. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean?    What  blackguard?" 

"Hutchins  Burley!  He  called  me  a  diamond  smuggler 
right  out  before  everybody  at  the  Outlaws'  Ball." 

In  the  greatest  agitation  Mr.  Fontaine  pressed  Claude 
for  particulars.  When  the  whole  story  had  been  told,  he 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Nothing  to  worry  over,  thank  goodness!"  he  said,  re- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  185 

assuring  his  son.  "Nobody  will  pay  the  slightest  attention 
to  what  a  tipsy  man  blurts  out  against  the  Fontaines." 

"No?"    Claude's  tone  was  decidedly  skeptical. 

"No,  they  won't  dare  to." 

"Anyhow,  we're  actually  in  this  smuggling  game — " 
Claude  went  on  gloomily. 

"Our  competitors  call  it  slight-of-hand  organized." 

The  ghost  of  a  smile  flitted  over  Claude's  face. 

"And  what  do  they  call  being  at  the  mercy  of  a  drunken 
cur's  venom?" 

"Don't  rub  it  in,  Claude.  I  blame  myself  severely  for 
your  embarrassment.  1  ought  to  have  forewarned  you 
earlier.  But  it  won't  happen  again.  Depend  upon  it,  I  shall 
lock  that  fellow's  tongue,  good  and  tight." 

"Is  it  really  necessary  for  us  Fontaines  to  have  truck 
with  such  degraded  scoundrels?" 

"Well,  my  boy,  it  isn't  exactly  easy  to  get  certificated 
gentlemen  for  the  work,"  said  Mr.  Fontaine,  stung  into 
irony.  "But  don't  let's  go  into  that  now,  Claude.  You  must 
have  confidence  in  me.  One  of  these  days  I  shall  give  you 
the  history  of  the  whole  matter  from  A  to  Z." 

"But  look  here,  father.    Suppose  we  were  caught  1" 

Mr.  Fontaine  sat  down  in  an  armchair  opposite  his  son 
and  lighted  a  cigar  with  leisurely  grace. 

"It's  a  possibility,"  he  said,  "a  slim  possibility.  But 
we  have  excellent  friends." 

"Government  officials?" 

"H'm  —  yes.  More  especially  —  there's  Colonel  Arm- 
strong." 

"Mr.  Armstrong!  You  don't  mean  to  say  he  dickers 
with  backstairs  political  grafters?" 


186  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"  'Dickers'  is  hardly  the  word.  Colonel  Armstrong  stands 
above,  about  and  underneath  the  political  machines  — 
both  of  them." 

"Mr.  Armstrong  in  the  boodle  game!  I  can  scarcely 
believe  it." 

"Boodle  game!  Don't  talk  like  a  grocer  or  a  reporter, 
Claude.  Mr*.  Armstrong  is  a  lover  of  fine  art  who,  like  all 
sensible  people,  'chinks  it  monstrous  to  tax  foreign  works  of 
art  destined  to  do  an  educational  service  here.  By  virtue 
of  his  influence  at  Washington,  he  has  been  able  to  use  his 
good  offices  to  our  advantage.  The  result  is  that  the  Cus- 
toms House  officials  are  wise  enough  not  to  go  behind  our 
list  of  import  declarations." 

"Does  he  get  much  out  of  it?"  inquired  Claude. 

"What  a  brutal  question,  Claude!  Armstrong  is  so  rich 
that  he  has  nothing  to  live  for  except  the  luxury  of  being 
disinterested." 

Mr.  Fontaine  added  that  there  had  never  been  any  out- 
right verbal  understanding  between  himself  and  his  pro- 
tector. Mr.  Armstrong  might  be  said  to  have  slid  into  the 
protectorate  insidiously.  He  was  chiefly  interested  in  the 
exquisite  vases  and  textiles  handled  by  Fontaine,  and  he 
was  probably  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  it  was  not  these 
articles  but  the  precious  stones  that  comprised  the  larger 
and  more  profitable  fraction  of  the  smuggled  goods. 

"For  the  rest/'  said  Mr.  Fontaine,  "he  is,  as  you  know, 
a  steady  purchaser  here.  He  buys  whatever  suits  his  fancy 
at  cost  price.  We  needn't  begrudge  him  the  bargain." 

"I  wish  our  relations  with  the  Armstrongs  were  not 
complicated  in  this  way,"  said  Claude,  with  an  ominous 
feeling  that  he,  too,  might  be  knocked  down  at  a  bargain 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  187 

if  the  influential  banker  should  fancy  him  as  a  bridegroom 
for  Marjorie. 

Claude  had  always  taken  special  pride  in  the  irreproach- 
able origin  of  the  Fontaine  riches.  He  had  looked  up  to  his 
father  as  a  convincing  example  of  the  possibility  of  making 
trade  both  clean  and  aristocratic.  Mr.  Fontaine's  dis- 
closures now  robbed  his  son  of  this  illusion,  .besides  con- 
fronting him  with  the  sordid  hazards  of  reality. 

One  of  these  sordid  hazards  was  barely  a  week  old. 
A  new  customs  inspector,  in  a  fit  of  unsophisticated  fervor, 
had  stumbled  upon  an  act  of  smuggling  in  which  the  com- 
plicity of  the  Fontaines  appeared  in  the  course  of  investi- 
gation. Only  the  lucky  fact  of  Mr.  Armstrong's  nephew 
being  the  Collector  of  the  Port  of  New  York  had  saved 
Fontaine  &  Company  from  scandal,  public  exposure  and 
humiliation. 

"By  Heaven!"  said  Claude.  "We're  indebted  to  Mr. 
Armstrong  for  being  out  of  prison!" 

"Quite  so,"  replied  the  father.  "An  American  business 
man  who  desires  to  keep  out  of  prison  must  take  one  of 
two  hygienic  precautions.  One  is  to  form  a  friendship  with 
a  leading  financier  or  a  political  boss;  the  other  is  to  avoid 
being  caught.  I  have  done  both." 

Mr.  Fontaine  looked  significantly  at  his  son. 

"Those  plans  of  yours,"  he  said,  "about  the  William 
Morris  art  center  and  all  that  —  there  can't  be  anything 
in  that  line  if  you  marry  a  poor  girl,  you  know." 

Claude  was  silent  for  a  while.  His  father,  watching  him 
keenly  and  sympathetically,  supposed  him  to  be  in  the 
throes  of  a  fierce  emotional  contest  between  his  sense  of 
duty  and  his  love  for  Janet.  Claude  was  under  the  same 


188  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

delusion.  In  reality,  the  willful  force  that  swayed  him 
was  not  so  much  inclining  him  to  marry  Janet  as  pushing 
him  not  to  marry  Marjorie.  For  the  moment,  the  easiest 
course  to  pursue  was  to  yield  on  the  minor  issue  and  gain 
time  on  the  major  one.  He  would  give  up  the  evening 
with  Janet  and  go  to  Huntington,  but  he  would  refrain 
from  committing  himself  definitely  as  regards  Marjorie  and 
marriage. 

"Ill  be  in  Huntington  for  dinner,  father,"  he  said  briefly. 

Mr.  Fontaine,  greatly  relieved,  patted  his  son's  back 
affectionately  and  walked  away  with  a  satisfied  smile. 


That  evening,  just  before  the  theatres  opened,  a  tall,  thin 
man  in  a  taupe-colored  flannel  suit  and  a  soft  beaver  hat 
came  out  of  the  Commodore  Hotel  walked  westward 
along  Forty-secor-d  Street,  and  took  an  uptown  bus  at  Fifth 
Avenue. 

Mark  Pryor,  in  a  very  unprofessional  mood,  had  the  air 
of  one  who  is  determined  to  be  seen  rather  than  to  see. 
Considering  the  constant  use  he  made  of  his  knack  of 
fading  out  of  his  surroundings  to  the  point  of  almost  total 
invisibility,  this  was  not  as  easy  for  him  as  it  sounds.  Easy 
or  not,  it  was  his  mood.  Mr.  Pryor,  whose  gift  for  self- 
effacement  amounted  to  a  miracle,  needed  a  change.  And 
he  sought  it  by  trying  to  make  himself  manifest,  as  other 
people  seek  it  by  trying  to  hide. 

He  had  not  deserted  Kips  Bay.  But  the  growing  inquisi- 
tiveness  of  his  neighbors,  and  particularly  of  the  acquaint- 
ances he  had  struck  up  in  flat  Number  Fifteen,  had  driven 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  189 

him  to  the  expedient  of  running  two  domiciles  and  of  divid- 
ing his  time  between  them.  The  choice  of  a  room  in  a 
first-class  hotel  had  been  dictated  not  by  a  craving  for 
luxury  but  by  a  sense  of  domestic  propriety.  "There  are 
two  things  I  can't  live  without,"  he  had  once  told  Robert 
Lloyd.  "One  is  an  unfailing  supply  of  hot  water,  the  other 
is  perfect  freedom  to  come  and  go  as  I  choose.  A  man  can 
always  get  these  treasures  among  the  model  poor  or  the 
unmodel  rich,  but  never  in  a  middle-class  home." 

Robert  had  heartily  endorsed  this  sentiment  without  any 
suspicion  that  Mr.  Pryor  —  whom  some  of  the  Outlaws 
suspected  of  being  a  fugitive  counterfeiter  and  others  of 
being  a  shrinking  novelist  in  search  of  local  color  —  per- 
ambulated from  an  army  cot  in  his  Lorillard  flat  to  a 
Circassian  walnut  bedstead  in  the  Commodore  Hotel. 

On  the  evening  in  question,  Mr.  Pryor  decided  to  explore 
a  section  of  Manhattan  which  he  had  hitherto  neglected. 
Accordingly  he  boarded  a  cross-town  bus  going  east  and 
alighted  at  the  corner  of  Second  Avenue  and  Seventy-second 
Street. 

Between  this  point  and  East  End  Avenue,  he  took  a  zig- 
zag course  along  several  side  streets  and  main  roads.  Thus 
he  sauntered  past  the  Vanderbilt  tenements  —  the  aristo- 
crats of  their  kind  —  and  through  the  German  and  Czecho- 
slovak colonies,  which  were  remote  enough  from  Times 
Square  to  have  retained  some  of  their  European  flavor. 

Presently  he  found  himself  in  a  very  prettily  lighted 
shopping  section  of  First  Avenue,  a  section  which  reminded 
him  faintly  of  the  chief  street  in  some  of  the  Teuto- 
Bohemian  towns  he  had  once  traveled  through.  Reaching 
the  Eighties,  he  strolled  westward  again,  not  without  a  sigh 


190  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

of  regret  as  he  noticed  that  the  few  quaint  German  or 
Slovak  spots  left  on  the  East  Side  were  fast  being  sub- 
merged in  the  uniform  drabness  which  inevitably  descends 
on  all  the  quarters  of  an  American  city. 

The  cross  street  into  which  he  turned  was  dimly  lighted 
and  quite  deserttd  except  for  one  other  pedestrian  on  the 
opposite  footway.  This  was  a  man  whose  hippopotamine 
dimensions  instantly  chained  Mr.  Pryor's  scrutiny. 

Surely  there  were  not  two  people  in  New  York  with  the 
aggressive  waddle,  the  labored  locomotion  of  Hutchins  Bur- 
ley?  Pryor  was  in  a  holiday  frame  of  mind;  but  here,  as 
usual,  was  opportunity  knocking  at  his  door  when  he  was 
in  a  mood  to  be  "not  at  home." 

"What  must  be,  must  be/'  he  murmured,  resigning  him- 
self to  his  fate. 

He  kept  his  eyes  glued  on  Burley,  and  followed  him 
slowly  until  he  had  watched  him  enter  a  cigar  and  station- 
ery shop  at  the  corner.  Walking  hurriedly  past  the  shop 
window  twice,  he  observed  Burley,  in  a  rather  secretive 
manner,  handing  the  proprietor  a  small  bundle  of  letters. 

Then  Pryor  acted  with  lightning  speed. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell,  he  had  darted  down 
the  dark  basement  steps  of  the  closed  shop  next  to  the 
tobacconist's  and,  after  a  brief  disappearance,  had  emerged 
again. 

The  man  who  came  trudging  up  the  steps,  however,  was 
not  the  agile,  immaculate  gentleman  who  had  descended  a 
few  seconds  before.  At  least,  to  outward  view,  it  was  a 
middle-aged  man  with  stooping  shoulders,  a  painful  limp, 
clothes  that  looked  trampish  and  untidy,  and  a  round  hat 
rammed  Klondike  fashion  far  down  over  his  forehead. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  191 

This  ugly  looking  customer  lurched  past  the  tobacconist's 
shop  a  moment  later,  just  brushing  the  sleeve  of  Hutchins 
Burley  on  his  way  out.  Wholly  absorbed  in  himself,  Burley 
paid  no  attention  to  the  incident  or  the  cause  of  it.  He 
plodded  on  up  the  street;  but  the  man  who  had  so  nearly 
collided  with  him  went  into  the  shop,  made  a  quick  pur- 
chase—  during  which  he  took  a  good  look  at  the  shop- 
keeper—  and  then  came  back  to  the  street  again  with  a 
haste  that  was  scarcely  in  keeping  with  his  limp.  By  this 
time  Burley  had  almost  turned  the  corner  of  Third  Avenue, 
and  Mark  Pryor  was  obliged  to  throw  his  limp  to  the  winds 
and  strike  into  a  lively  clip  in  order  to  keep  his  quarry 
within  view. 

Eventually,  he  contrived  to  be  a  passenger  on  the  bus 
that  carried  Hutchins  Burley  downtown,  and  got  off  with 
him  at  Seventeenth  Street.  There  he  watched  his  man 
waddle  heavily  towards  Irving  Place  and  enter  a  dingy  old 
house  in  the  middle  of  the  block. 

Mark  Pryor  followed  slowly.  As  soon  as  the  coast  was 
clear,  he  crept  cautiously  up  the  front  stoop  to  look  at  the 
name  plate  on  one  side  of  the  doorway.  With  the  aid  of  a 
pocket  flashlight,  he  read  the  words:  "Japanese  Consulate 
General." 

"What  in  thunder  has  the  Mikado  got  to  do  with 
Hutchins  Burley's  smuggling  adventures?"  he  asked  him- 
self, greatly  perplexed. 

An  hour  or  so  later,  he  repeated  this  query  to  a  brisk, 
florid-faced  gentleman  in  the  prime  of  life  who  was  seated 
in  what  purported  to  be  an  actor's  agency  in  the  heart  of 
Times  Square.  The  florid  gentleman,  who  looked  much 


192  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

less  like  a  theatrical  agent  than  like  a  military  man  in 
mufti,  offered  no  solution  to  the  enigma. 

"Major  Blair,  I  think  I'm  on  the  trail  of  something  big 
at  last,"  volunteered  Mr.  Pryor,  hopefully. 

"Possibly,  sir,  possibly,"  replied  the  gentleman,  briskly. 

But  he  paid  only  a  languid  attention  to  his  visitor's 
spirited  account  of  how  he  had  gradually  wormed  himself 
into  the  confidence  of  Hutchins  Burley.  When  Pryor  fin- 
ished, he  said: 

"Somebody  else  will  have  to  take  up  the  trail  of  Burley. 
Orders  came  from  headquarters  this  evening  that  you  are 
to  sail  for  France  the  day  after  tomorrow.  You  will  report 
in  Paris  to  Colonel  Scott  at  the  address  in  this  letter." 

"Foiled  again,"  exclaimed  Pryor,  veiling  his  real  feelings 
with  assumed  good  humor.  "Whenever  I'm  on  the  point  of 
nailing  a  case  down,  headquarters  steps  in  and  calls  a  halt, 
as  if  I  were  the  villain  in  the  piece." 

He  added  sardonically:  "What  is  the  use  of  information 
fairly  breezing  into  my  hands,  so  long  as  headquarters' 
notion  of  Secret  Service  is  that  the  only  conduct  becoming 
an  officer  or  a  gentleman  is  to  keep  a  secret  dark." 

"Mr.  Pryor,  orders  are  orders!  The  first  duty  of  an 
officer  of  the  Secret  Service  is  never  to  ask  questions." 

"Quite  so,  sir,"  returned  Pryor  coolly.  "And  yet  the 
first  duty  of  a  crack  Secret  Service  officer  is  to  ask  questions 
all  the  time." 

Major  Blair  stared  at  this  independent,  gifted  member 
of  his  staff.  Nothing  daunted,  Mark  Pryor  took  his  sealed 
orders,  saluted  and  left. 


PART  III 
JANET  ON  HER  OWN 

CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 
I 

Earlier  in  the  same  day,  a  special  messenger  from  Claude 
had  brought  two  notes  of  regret  to  the  Lorillard  tenements, 
one  for  Cornelia  and  one  for  Janet.  A  little  before  evening 
one  for  Cornelia  and  one  for  Janet.  A  little  before  evening, 
these  notes  were  followed  by  quantities  of  flowers  and  fruit, 
which  were  for  Janet  alone.  But  Cornelia  went  into  ecsta- 
sies over  the  presents  and  caused  the  rooms  of  Number 
Fifteen  to  ring  with  her  arpeggio  laughter. 

The  note  to  Janet  read: 

Darling  Janet: 

Business  interests  and  a  promise  made  long  ago 
make  it  imperative  for  me  to  go  to  Long  Island  today. 
The  worst  of  it  is,  I  shall  be  away  for  three  days,  and  how 
unhappy  this  makes  me,  you  can't  conceive.  Six  days 
without  you  will  have  loitered  by  when  next  we  meet! 
Six  endless  days  away  from  the  miracle  of  your  soft  voice 
and  the  wonder  of  your  heavenly  smile. 

I  came  back  from  Washington  late  last  night,  not  know- 
ing that  I  should  be  prevented  from  seeing  you  today. 
Even  so,  I  had  my  car  driven,  far  from  its  regular 
course,  past  the  Lorillard  houses.  How  I  prayed  that  a 
light  from  your  little  corner  room  would  invitingly  tell  me 
that  you  were  still  awake!  But  all  was  dark,  and  I  had  to 
be  content  to  let  my  fancy  play  around  a  certain  maze  of 
curly  bronze  hair,  two  eyes  as  limpid  gray  as  an  Adirondack 
lake  before  dawn,  and  a  pair  of  ruddy  lips  that  smile 
divinely  or  talk  with  so  much  sense  and  charm. 

You  are  not  like  any  other  girl  I  have  ever  known, 


194  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

dearest  Janet!  I  think  of  you  as  a  rare  and  delicate  flower 
whose  perfume  holds  my  senses  as  your  spirit  engrosses 
my  soul. 

I  want  you  to  have  a  happy  evening,  dear  girl,  despite 
my  absence.  Only,  every  now  and  then,  you  are  to  give 
a  passing  thought  to  me — disconsolate,  forlorn,  im- 
patient to  be  with  you  again. 

Ever  your 

Claude. 

Of  course,  in  Claude's  absence  the  party  was  declared 
off,  all  but  the  supper  in  the  pagoda. 

Cornelia  read  the  letter  over  twice.  The  second  time, 
she  uttered  some  of  the  more  lyrical  passages  aloud,  render- 
ing them  with  a  faintly  exaggerated  stress  or  mock-heroic 
inflection  as  the  case  might  be. 

"Exquisite!"  she  carolled,  handing  the  note  back  to 
Janet.  "A  perfect  love  letter!  By  what  an  expert  hand!" 

Lydia  Dyson  came  in  just  then  and  had  to  be  told  all 
about  the  disappointment.  The  author  of  "Brothers  and 
Sisters,"  in  an  abbreviated  accordion  pleated  frock,  a  neck- 
lace of  jade  beads,  and  very  French  shoes,  looked  as  pro- 
fessionally Cleopatrish  as  ever. 

"Janet,"  she  said,  knowingly,  "Claude  has  gone  to  Hunt- 
ington,  to  that  Armstrong  girl,  Marjorie  —  the  one  that 
was  hotfoot  after  the  Earl  of  Dunbar.  She  didn't  get  the 
Earl,  you  know.  Now  they  all  say  she'll  marry  Claude. 
I  bet  she  will,  too." 

'"He  doesn't  love  her,"  protested  Janet. 

"As  if  that  made  any  difference!  Every  man  needs  a 
woman  to  represent  him  in  social  life  and  to  advertise  the 
dignity  and  solidity  of  his  own  rooftree.  Any  woman  who 
can  do  these  things  satisfactorily  qualifies  as  a  suitable 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  195 

wife.  Men,  you  see,  are  more  conventional  than  women. 
Or  perhaps  I  should  say,  more  businesslike." 

"Businesslike!"  Cornelia  interposed.  "Say  disgusting, 
and  you'll  be  much  nearer  the  truth.  Didn't  I  tell  you, 
Janet,"  she  continued,  "that  men  think  of  women  in  only 
one  way  —  and  that  a  beastly  one?" 

"On  the  contrary,  they  think  of  women  in  two  ways," 
contended  Lydia  in  her  drawling  Southern  tongue.  "To  a 
man,  all  womankind  is  divided  into  two  groups:  the  woman 
who  stands  for  his  home,  and  all  the  others  —  the  women 
who  stand  for  his  pleasure.  The  one  woman  is  a  necessity ; 
all  the  others  a  luxury.  Every  man  gets  the  first  at  any 
cost,  and  then  bids  for  one  or  more  of  the  second,  if  he 
has  the  price." 

"Don't  be  bizarre  and  crude,  Lydia,"  said  Cornelia,  not 
relishing  this  analysis  in  Janet's  presence. 

"Crude?"  said  Lydia,  repelling  the  charge  as  melodra- 
matically as  it  was  made.  "It  is  not  I  who  am  crude.  It 
is  man.  It  is  man  who  divides  our  whole  sex  crassly  into 
these  two  groups.  It  is  man  who  sees  in  every  woman  either 
a  housekeeper  or  a  wanton.  It  is  man  who  fixes  a  trade 
price  for  affairs  of  the  heart  and  rates  marriages  by  their 
market  value.  Call  this  crude,  if  you  like!  Or  call  it  an 
incurable  blindness  to  the  differing  blend  of  vital  forces 
that  makes  each  woman  unique.  In  this  respect,  how  unlike 
men  are  to  us,  who  see  in  every  man  a  new,  mystic  union 
of  protector,  lover  and  father  of  our  children!" 

"The  new  trinity!"  chanted  Cornelia,  with  a  significant 
laugh.  "But  I'm  sure,  dear  Lydia,  that  not  every  woman 
has  your  gift  for  discovering  this  mystic  trinity  in  so  many 
unique  specimens  of  the  other  sex." 


196  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Dear  Cornelia,  you  flatter  me.  My  only  advantage  over 
other  women  lies  in  the  prudence  which  caused  me  to  get 
a  husband  before  I  set  out  to  make  the  discoveries  you 
allude  to.*' 

"Don't  let  us  talk  about  marriage  as  it  exists  today," 
said  Cornelia,  parrying  the  blow  as  best  she  could.  "Mar- 
riage is  so  banal." 

"Yes,  and  so  convenient,"  drawled  Lydia,  who  reluctantly 
supported  her  husband  in  idleness  and  luxury.  "Also,  so 
expensive.  Husbands  now  come  dearer  than  ever  before 
in  the  history  of  family  life,  while  lovers  never  were 
cheaper." 

"Lydia  is  joking,"  said  Janet,  sending  her  clear,  mollify- 
ing voice  into  the  breach. 

"No,  I'm  not  joking,"  said  Lydia,  with  the  utmost 
gravity.  She  lit  a  cigarette,  adding  as  she  did  so: 

"I'm  making  hay  while  the  sun  shines." 

"Does  your  husband  agree  with  you  on  this  point?" 
asked  Janet,  curiously. 

"My  dear,  he's  used  to  me.  He  takes  my  word  for 
everything.  Also  my  money.  But  I'm  frank  to  say  that 
I  don't  hold  with  Cornelia's  notions  about  free  love. 
They're  too  fantastic  and  impractical.  I  hold  with  the 
French  system:  Marry  first  and  experiment  afterwards. 
It's  not  logical,  Janet,  but  it  works  well.  If  you  experiment 
first,  you  are  sure  to  be  done  out  of  marriage,  and  you  may 
even  be  done  out  of  love." 

"Really,  Lydia,"  said  Cornelia,  now  thoroughly  incensed. 
"You  must  know  that  Janet  believes,  as  I  do,  that  love  is 
a  surrender,  not  a  sale.  She  isn't  offering  her  affections  to 
the  highest  bidder." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  197 

Janet,  intervening,  remarked  that  this  was  true;  but,  as 
she  found  Lydia's  views  very  interesting,  she  begged  Cor- 
nelia to  let  their  visitor  have  her  say. 

"Oh,  very  well "  said  Cornelia,  biting  her  lip. 

"That's  right,  Janet,"  said  Lydia  Dyson,  grateful  for  her 
support.  "I'm  sorry  to  disagree  with  Cornelia.  But  in  this 
matter,  she's  all  at  sea.  Believe  it  or  not,  in  modern  life, 
love  is  a  commodity  for  sale,  like  any  other  commodity. 
What  else  can  you  expect?  Do  you  know  of  any  other  gift 
in  the  possession  of  man,  woman  or  child  which  is  not  sold 
to  the  highest  bidder?  Doesn't  a  playwright  subdue  his 
creative  faculty  to  the  requirements  of  the  manager  who 
offers  the  most  royalties?  Doesn't  the  novelist  or  the 
musician  or  the  engineer  do  the  same  in  his  line?  How 
indeed  can  they  help  it  in  a  country  where  everything  is 
bought  and  sold,  where  the  greed  and  gluttony  of  men  put 
everything  under  the  hammer,  from  a  glass  of  water  to  a 
draught  of  genius?  Why  marvel  that  women  have  to  sell 
their  bodies,  when  poets  and  artists  have  to  sell  their 
souls?" 

"Take  it  from  me,  Lydia,"  Cornelia  burst  in,  caustically, 
"when  you  apply  the  oratorical  powers  of  Robert  Lloyd 
to  the  moral  principles  of  Mazie  Ross,  the  product  is  hard 
to  beat!" 

"Cornelia,  you  wouldn't  say  spiteful  things  like  that  if 
you  only  knew  the  truth  about  sex  relations.  I  forgive  you 
because  you  don't." 

"If  /  only  knew!"  said  Cornelia.  She  gave  a  florid  oper- 
atic laugh.  "  Do  you  really  suppose  I  don't  know?" 

"No  woman  does  who  hasn't  been  married  to  a  man. 
Not  until  she  has  been  chained  in  wedlock  for  some  time 


198  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

does  she  see  the  cloven  hoof  or  feel  the  mark  of  the  beast, 
or  get  her  fanciful  pictures  about  love  put  in  a  proper  per- 
spective. That's  one  thing  marriage  does  for  a  woman." 

"By  your  own  admission,  then,"  remarked  Janet,  "Cor- 
nelia is  right  hi  thinking  that  the  game  isn't  worth  the 
candle,  isn't  she?" 

"Dearie,"  said  Lydia,  with  unction,  "ask  the  most 
wretched  wife  on  earth,  and  she'll  answer:  '  Tis  better  to 
have  wed  and  lost,  than  never  to  have  wed  at  all.'  " 

II 

Cornelia,  observing  that  Janet  took  Claude's  absence 
with  surprising  composure,  wondered  whether  it  was  a  case 
of  still  waters  running  deep.  It  was  partly  that,  but  there 
was  another  reason.  The  apparent  ease  with  which  Claude 
had  yielded  the  preference  to  Marjorie's  claim  upon  his 
time  carried  with  it  an  unflattering  implication  as  regards 
the  value  he  set  upon  Janet's  friendship.  To  be  sure,  there 
was  the  rapturous  love  letter.  But  fine  words  buttered  no 
parsnips;  they  pleased  the  ear  but  they  neither  explained 
Claude's  course  nor  justified  it. 

Thus  Janet  was  as  much  nettled  as  disappointed  by  her 
lover's  absence.  Yet  it  was  not  her  way  to  stew  in  misery. 
And  her  control  of  her  feelings  was  made  easier  by  the 
pressure  of  some  secretarial  work  for  which  she  had  just 
been  engaged  by  Howard  Madison  Grey,  the  playwright. 

Immediately  after  supper,  therefore,  Janet  left  her  friends 
in  the  Japanese  pagoda  on  the  roof,  having  arranged  to 
spend  the  evening  in  Harry  Kelly's  office  in  flat  Number 
Thirteen,  where  she  proposed  to  practice  on  the  athlete's 
typewriter. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  199 

Her  object  was  to  "increase  her  speed"  so  that  her  most 
recent  position  might  be  made  securer. 

Through  the  Collegiate  Bureau,  to  which  Cornelia  had 
introduced  her,  she  had  already  been  given  two  opportunities 
in  business  offices  downtown.  She  had  lost  them  both 
within  a  week,  her  refinement  and  charm  of  manner  having 
been  voted  poor  substitutes  for  the  experience  that  she  still 
lacked. 

The  fault  was  not  wholly  Janet's.  Before  she  left  home, 
she  had  taken  a  course  in  shorthand  and  typewriting  (in  the 
teeth  of  her  mother's  opposition)  at  an  Evening  High 
School.  It  was  one  of  those  carefully  pasteurized  courses 
for  which  the  American  educational  system  is  famous;  it 
was  showy,  time  consuming,  and  totally  useless.  But  how 
could  Janet  have  known  that  high-school  stenography  was 
as  pitiably  inadequate  to  the  practical  needs  of  a  modern 
mercantile  office  as  high-school  French  or  German  to  the 
practical  needs  of  a  tourist  on  the  Continent? 

Not  wanting  to  get  into  the  bad  books  of  the  Collegiate 
Bureau,  Janet  was  anxious  to  avert  a  third  discharge.  More- 
over, her  post  with  the  playwright  had  the  intrinsic  merit  of 
being  more  congenial,  as  well  as  more  lucrative  than  any  she 
had  filled  before. 

Janet  was  thankful  that  Cornelia  would  be  occupied  with 
the  party,  for  her  efforts  to  make  herself  more  competent 
invariably  excited  her  friend  to  derision.  Cornelia,  like  a 
true-blue  Kipsite,  was  no  devotee  of  good  workmanship. 
Endowed  with  the  makings  of  success  in  any  one  of  half 
a  dozen  professions,  she  had  achieved  failure  in  all  of  them, 
her  inveterate  lack  of  industry  and  application  having 


200  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

botched  a  promising  career  in  turn  as  an  author,  singer, 
painter,  dancer,  decorator  and  dress  designer. 

A  born  worker,  Janet  stood  in  no  danger  of  imitating 
Cornelia's  business  vagaries.  She  could  not  have  afforded 
it,  anyway.  Unlike  Cornelia,  she  had  no  private  income,  her 
only  resources  being  a  small  bank  deposit  (a  relative's 
bequest),  which  was  dwindling  with  alarming  rapidity. 
Thus,  inclination  and  necessity  were  as  one  in  spurring  her 
on  to  making  a  success  of  her  new  post  as  typist  and  aman- 
uensis for  Howard  Madison  Grey. 

Ill 

The  keys  of  the  typewriter  were  going  at  a  merry  gallop 
when  Robert  Lloyd,  who  had  a  desk  in  Kelly's  office,  came 
in. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  breaking  the  commandments 
of  the  Lorillard  Tenements?"  he  said,  putting  a  sheaf  of 
papers  on  his  desk  and  getting  ready  to  attack  them. 

"Which  commandments,  Robert?" 

"All  ten.  The  first  five  prohibit  any  useful  work  in  the 
daytime  on  penalty  of  loss  of  caste.  The  second  five  pro- 
hibit the  same  at  night  on  penalty  of  excommunication,  if 
not  expulsion." 

She  laughed  and  asked  him  why  he  hadn't  joined  Cor- 
nelia's supper  party  in  the  Japanese  pagoda.  He  explained 
that  he  had  been  detained  at  a  meeting  of  the  Guildsmen's 
League,  of  which  he  was  now  the  organizing  secretary.  He 
added  that  he  had  brought  home  a  quantity  of  raw  material 
to  be  hammered  into  a  tract  on  Waste  in  Industry,  a  job 
which  would  take  him  all  night. 

They  each  buckled  to  the  task  in  hand.   Janet  liked  to 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  201 

work  in  the  same  room  with  Robert,  who  knew  when  to  be 
silent  as  well  as  when  to  talk.  He  treated  her  like  a  fellow 
worker  of  his  own  sex,  paying  her  none  of  that  exaggerated 
show  of  consideration  which  most  men  give  to  women  out- 
side their  own  family  circle.  Thus  his  presence  stimulated 
her  and  in  no  wise  interfered  with  the  concentration 
demanded  by  her  typewriting  practice.  When  she  reached 
a  good  stopping  point,  she  offered  to  help  him.  He  accepted 
the  offer  eagerly  and  dictated  several  letters  to  her. 

"A  good  job,"  he  said,  after  she  had  handed  him  the 
typed  sheets  to  be  signed,  "and  a  quick  one,  too.  You're 
improving  by  leaps  and  bounds.  Indeed,  you  might  develop 
into  a  'speed  demon,'  but  for  your  un-American  weakness 
for  accuracy." 

"I've  got  to  be  accurate.  I  do  all  sorts  of  work  every 
morning,  for  Mr.  Grey,  the  playwright." 

"Grey?  The  author  of  'The  Love  that  Lies'  isn't  he? 
The  play  that  ran  for  two  seasons.  Is  he  very  exacting?" 

"No,  but  his  wife  is.  She  keeps  an  eagle  eye  on  all  the 
typing  that's  done  for  him." 

"Why?" 

"Why?  Well,  she  serves  him  as  a  sort  of  combination 
mother,  nurse,  watchdog,  and  general  superintendent.  Just 
as  most  wives  do." 

"And  just  as  most  wives  will  continue  to  do,  until  they 
choose  an  independent  living  in  preference." 

"Do  you  think  that  women  are  solely  responsible  for  the 
social  arrangement  by  which  two  distinct  things  like  mother- 
hood and  housekeeping  are  tied  indissolubly  together?" 

"No.  And  I  don't  believe  that  men  are  solely  responsible, 
either." 


202  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Aren't  they?" 

"No.  Remember,  marriage  was  not  always  what  it  is 
today.  In  the  middle  ages,  the  home  was  also  the  place  of 
business,  and  the  wife  was  her  husband's  business  associate 
as  well  as  his  mate.  Later,  when  business  went  out  of  the 
door,  slavery  came  in  through  the  window.  This  was  not 
exclusively  man's  doing.  Men  and  women  muddled  things 
up  together.  Honors  are  very  nearly  even  on  that 
score." 

"Be  fair,  Robert!  Hitherto,  men  have  had  all  the 
power." 

"Yes,  and  women  have  had  all  the  glory.  They  were 
every  bit  as  well  satisfied  to  belong  to  the  fair,  privileged, 
and  law-evading  sex,  as  men  were  satisfied  to  belong  to  the 
coarse,  responsible,  and  law-making  sex.  As  soon  as  the 
majority  of  women  follow  the  lead  of  Lady  Cicely  in 
'Captain  Erossbound's  Conversion,'  that  is,  as  fast  as  they 
'scorn  death,  spurn  fate,  and  set  their  hopes  above  happiness 
and  love,'  they  will  be  able  to  cope  with  man's  supremacy 
as  successfully  outside  the  home  as  they  have  already  done 
within  it.  What  is  more,  they  will  work  their  will  in  public 
much  more  openly  and  honorably  than  they  have  so  far 
worked  it  in  private." 

"Men  are  always  declaring  that  women  could  easily  get 
full  independence  if  only  they  would  go  about  it  in  the  right 
way.  Clearly,  men  know  the  right  way  and  women  don't. 
Cornelia  says  that  if  they  are  so  very  much  cleverer  than  we 
are,  it  is  a  pity  they  don't  set  their  wits  to  work  so  as  to 
help  instead  of  hindering  us  in  the  struggle  for  equality." 

"Never  mind  what  Cornelia  says,"  exclaimed  Robert, 
energetically.  "She  is  crazy  on  the  subject  of  men;  that  is 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  203 

why  she  keeps  forever  harping  on  it.  One  way  of  doing 
this  is  to  accuse  men  of  everything  evil  under  the  sun,  from 
the  creation  of  God  to  the  invention  of  the  cardboard 
kitchenette  flat.  Please  don't  join  her  in  the  vulgar  senseless 
game  of  pitting  one  sex  against  the  other." 

"You  do  Cornelia  an  injustice.  She  doesn't  maintain  that 
all  women  are  angels  and  all  men  devils.  Nor  do  I.  But 
suppose  some  men  are  angels.  I  shouldn't  care  to  be  a 
housekeeper  for  the  archangel  Gabriel." 

Robert  hoped  that  any  lady  who  consented  to  share 
Gabriel's  bed  and  board  would  find  the  archangel  up-to-date 
and  gentlemanly  enough  to  excuse  her  from  washing  dishes 
and  scrubbing  floors.  Why  should  an  archangelic  or  any 
other  sort  of  gentleman  shortsightedly  insist  that  a  talented 
bride  on  her  way  to  becoming  an  excellent  banker,  merchant, 
or  politician,  should  transform  herself  into  a  mediocre 
woman-of -all-work?  Why  should  he  consider  his  own  bar- 
gain bettered  by  such  a  questionable  transformation? 

"On  the  other  hand,  Janet,"  he  added  boldly,  "why 
should  an  up-to-date  young  lady  jump  from  the  devil  of 
housekeeping  into  the  deep  sea  of  free  love,  as  I  fear  you 
will  end  by  doing  if  you  follow  Cornelia's  suggestions?" 

She  knew  that  he  had  Claude  in  mind.  But  she  was 
unable  to  take  offence  at  his  uncandid  candor  and  his  dis- 
interested interest. 

"Robert,  what  a  tantalizing  mixture  of  the  liberal  and 
the  conservative  you  are!"  she  exclaimed,  refusing  to  take 
up  his  challenge. 

"I  am  merely  the  child  of  my  age,  Janet.  I  was  born  with 
reactionary  habits  and  nursed  on  radical  ideas.  All  logic 
counsels  me  to  become  an  enemy  of  existing  institutions;  all 


204  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

instinct  drives  me  to  conduct  operations  within  the  enemy's 
camp.    I  betray  under  two  flags." 

"You  can't  make  me  believe  that.  If  you  were  all  kinds 
of  a  traitor,  you  wouldn't  be  such  a  jolly  companion  to  work 
with  or  to  talk  to.  Do  you  know  the  most  delightful  thing 
about  you,  Robert?" 

"Modesty  forbids  me  to  say — but  not  to  hear.    Tell  me." 

"It  is  the  fact  that  you  can  behave  towards  a  woman 
friend  as  frankly  and  decently  and  unsentimentally  as  you 
would  towards  a  man  friend.  You  can't  imagine  what  a 
relief  it  is  to  a  girl  to  know  one  man  who'll  always  treat 
her  man-to-man  fashion." 

"Will  I?  Janet,  if  you  were  perfectly  sure  of  my  future 
conduct,  you'd  find  me  an  insufferable  bore.  Besides,  no 
fascinating  woman  ever  wanted  to  be  treated  like  a  man — 
at  least  not  for  long  at  a  time.  You  won't  be  the  first 
exception." 

"Don't  be  silly,  Robert.  If  ever  I  should  get  married — 
which  Heaven  forbid! — it  will  be  to  a  man  like  you,  one 
who  can  work  with  me  without  constantly  remembering  my 
sex." 

"Oh,  almost  any  man  will  be  able  to  do  that,  as  soon  as 
being  your  husband  loses  its  novelty  for  him.  Still,  I'm 
grateful  to  you  for  your  well-meant  opinion,  Janet.  I  shall 
try  to  deserve  it  by  offering  you  a  small  business  partner- 
ship." 

He  rapidly  sketched  the  plan  he  had  in  mind,  pointing  out 
that,  as  only  her  mornings  were  engaged  by  the  playwright, 
Grey,  she  might  help  him  afternoons  with  the  Guild  League's 
work.  He  was  hard  pressed  for  assistance;  the  League  could 
just  afford  a  part-time  worker;  there  was  a  good  deal  of 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  205 

editing  and  typewriting  which  he  was  sure  she  could  under- 
take. 

Janet  begged  to  be  taken  on  trial.  The  bargain  was 
struck  amid  the  sounds  of  merrymaking  that  came,  none 
too  faintly,  through  the  walls  of  flat  Number  Fifteen.  She 
remarked  that  Cornelia's  party  appeared  to  have  been  a 
huge  success  after  all. 

"Yes,  it  has  given  birth  to  the  firm  of  Barr  and  Lloyd," 
said  Robert,  jestingly. 

He  was  aware  of  the  conflict  in  Janet  between  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  love  chase  and  the  attraction  of  the  force  that 
moves  the  sun  and  the  stars.  And  he  fondly  believed  that 
this  conflict  no  longer  existed  in  himself.  The  love  of  man 
for  woman  against  the  love  of  life!  He  had  made  his 
decision,  she  had  not. 

Two  questions  remained  uppermost  in  his  mind.  One 
was:  "Could  he  capture  Janet's  great  natural  talents  for  his 
own  side,  the  side,  not  of  the  fires  of  sensuous  gratification 
but  of  the  flame  that  burns  at  the  heart  of  the  world?"  The 
other  was:  "Did  Janet  really  want  him  to  act  towards  her 
precisely  as  towards  a  man?" 

Curiously  enough,  the  irrelevance  of  the  second  question 
to  the  first,  did  not  strike  him. 


CHAPTER    SIXTEEN 

I 

In  the  days  that  followed,  Janet's  morning  duty  as  Mr. 
Grey's  secretary  and  her  afternoon  employment  as  assistant 
to  Robert  left  her  with  very  little  leisure.  Such  time  as 
remained  on  her  hands  she  spent  chiefly  with  Cornelia  or 
with  Claude. 

Neither  of  these  friends  exhibited  much  enthusiasm  over 
Janet's  determined  effort  to  earn  her  own  living.  Cornelia 
looked  with  ill-concealed  disfavor  on  an  exhibition  of  dili- 
gence which,  besides  being  foreign  to  the  atmosphere  of 
Kips  Bay,  used  up  so  much  of  her  protegee's  time  that  the 
burden  of  housekeeping  in  flat  Number  Fifteen  was  inevi- 
tably shifted  to  Cornelia's  own  shoulders.  As  for  Claude, 
his  reaction,  equally  cool,  was  governed  partly  by  the 
scarcity  value  which  now  attached  itself  to  Janet's  leisure 
hours,  partly  also  by  another  reason  which  he  hardly  dared 
to  face. 

Somewhat  daunted  by  the  lukewarm  attitude  of  her 
friends,  Janet  nevertheless  kept  courageously  on  with  the 
task  of  making  her  independence  secure. 

Howard  Madison  Grey,  the  playwright,  was  then  com- 
posing his  fourth  play,  "Cleopatra's  Needle."  His  practise 
was  to  dictate  rapidly  to  Janet  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  after 
which  she  was  expected  to  typewrite  the  sketchy  dialogue, 
changes  in  grammar  and  syntax  and  even  in  diction  being 
left,  as  time  went  on,  more  and  more  to  her  discretion.  As 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  207 

the  work  appealed  to  her  interest  as  well  as  to  her  skill,  she 
despatched  it  with  zest. 

Bit  by  bit,  two  drawbacks  emerged,  however.  One  was 
Janet's  liability  to  mistakes  because  of  an  absorption  in  the 
plot,  an  absorption  so  deep  as  to  interfere  seriously  with 
quick  mechanical  transcription.  The  other  was  Mrs.  Howard 
Madison  Grey. 

This  lady  had  opened  a  correspondence  with  her  future 
husband  during  the  short  run  of  his  first  play,  "The  Spice  of 
Life,"  for  the  hero  of  which  (a  masterful  but  incorrigible 
polygamist)  she  had  conceived  an  unbounded  admiration. 
The  correspondence  ripened  into  matrimony,  Mrs.  Grey 
bringing  her  spouse  the  money  and  influence  that  lifted  him 
swiftly  to  a  solid  place  in  the  theatrical  world. 

When  his  second  play,  "The  Love  that  Lies,"  financed  by 
her  father,  scored  a  big  hit,  she  noticed  that  he  became 
the  gratified  recipient  of  a  good  deal  of  feminine  attention. 
Mindful  of  the  polygamous  experiments  of  his  two  masterful 
heroes,  she  remembered  that  precaution  is  the  better  part  of 
safety.  Marriage  had  considerably  modified  her  point  of 
view,  and  she  now  had  a  conviction  that  there  should  be  a 
yawning  gulf  between  the  pluralistic  imaginings  of  the 
dramatist  and  the  monogamic  behavior  of  the  husband. 

To  give  this  conviction  shape,  she  enframed  him  in  a 
watchful  chaperonage.  Chaperonage  was  not  the  name  she 
used.  She  called  it,  "being  a  helpmeet." 

The  helpmeet's  first  official  act  was  to  place  Mr.  Grey's 
communications  with  the  world  beyond-the-home  under  a 
strict  censorship.  She  looked  after  his  correspondence,  reg- 
istered his  engagements,  and  kept  in  telephonic  touch  with 
him  when  he  went  to  a  club  or  directed  a  rehearsal.  Let  the 


208  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

enemy  idolaters  capture  him  (if  they  could)  through  the 
barbed- wire  entanglements  of  her  devotion! 

In  the  same  spirit,  she  threw  cold  water  on  his  business- 
like proposal  to  do  his  writing  in  an  office  building.  Such 
an  environment,  she  said,  would  kill  the  soul  of  his  art.  Her 
substitute  was  a  study,  comfortably  fitted  up  in  his  own 
home;  and  there,  accordingly,  he  and  Janet  were  obliged  to 
work. 

Mrs.  Howard  Madison  Grey  was  a  woman  of  fixed 
opinions.  She  was  firm  in  the  belief  that  a  transcendent 
artistic  talent  was  lodged  in  her  husband;  she  was  equally 
firm  in  the  belief  that  a  transcendent  executive  talent  was 
lodged  in  herself.  On  the  principle  that  it  pays  to  specialize 
she  held  it  to  be  no  more  than  right  that  any  power  or 
glory  acquired  by  the  name  of  Howard  Madison  Grey  should 
be  exercised  by  the  executive  branch  of  the  family.  About 
this  opinion  she  was  entirely  frank. 

"I've  made  him/'  she  said  to  Janet,  one  day.  "Why 
should  I  let  others  enjoy  the  fruit  of  my  labors?" 

This  was  said  as  much  in  warning  as  in  confidence.  Janet 
was  greatly  amused,  inasmuch  as  her  feelings  toward  her 
employer  were  unsentimental  to  the  point  of  prosiness. 

None  the  less,  Mrs.  Grey's  never  ending  readiness  to  sus- 
pect Janet  of  a  design  on  her  vested  interest  in  Mr.  Grey  soon 
became  a  great  bore.  It  was  also  somewhat  trying  to  the 
nerves.  At  the  most  unexpected  moments,  the  good  lady 
would  shoot  in  upon  her  husband  and  his  assistant  like  a 
cartridge  from  a  noiseless  gun,  and  explode  into  embarrass- 
ing explanations. 

Until,  at  length,  Mr.  Grey's  perfectly  correct  and  unemo- 
tional attitude  towards  Janet  underwent  a  dangerous  change. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  209 

II 

By  the  time  Claude  returned  from  his  visit  to  Huntington, 
Janet  had  already  settled  down  to  her  new  routine.  Claude 
did  not  seriously  object  to  her  morning  engagement  with 
Howard  Madison  Grey,  but  her  afternoon  work  in  Kelly's 
study — the  work  she  did  for  Robert's  league— this  he  viewed 
as  an  intolerable  encroachment  on  his  privileges. 

Out  of  regard  for  Janet's  warm  espousal  of  the  cause  of 
woman's  independence,  he  concealed  his  feelings  as  best  he 
could.  But  he  used  his  prodigal  gifts  without  scruple  to 
lay  siege  to  Janet's  hours  of  employment,  especially  to  her 
afternoons.  Four  or  five  days  out  of  seven,  on  one  excuse 
or  another,  his  imposing  car  would  draw  up  to  the  Lorillard 
tenements,  and  its  owner,  handsome,  dashing,  persuasive, 
would  tempt  Janet  away  from  laborious  tasks  to  the  delights 
of  an  excursion. 

In  vain  did  Janet  upbraid  herself  each  time  she  yielded, 
or  school  herself  diligently  against  the  next  occasion.  When 
the  next  occasion  came,  she  found,  as  likely  as  not,  that  she 
was  as  helpless  as  ever  to  resist  his  thrilling  voice,  his  ardent 
eye,  and  his  magnetic  wooing. 

In  Cornelia,  Claude  had  a  subtle  and  insidious  agent  on 
his  side.  If  Janet  gave  a  crushing  refusal  to  one  of  Claude's 
incitements  to  truancy,  Cornelia  would  flash  a  reason  in 
his  favor  as  unanswerable  as  a  sword.  Or  if  Janet,  per- 
suaded, but  not  convinced,  gave  signs  of  an  uneasy  con- 
science, Cornelia  was  always  ready  to  annihilate  doubt  with 
some  apt  quotation  (or  misquotation)  such  as  "Work  no 
further,  pretty  sweeting  —  youth's  a  stuff  will  not  endure." 

Naturally,  this  spasmodic  holiday  making  was  the  cause 
of  frequent  delays  in  the  performance  of  the  work  for  the 


210  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Guildsmen's  League.  Janet  tried  to  make  up  for  lost  time 
by  working  late  at  night,  a  practice  that  drew  upon  her  the 
reproaches  of  Cornelia  who  alleged  that  it  interfered  with 
her  sleep.  Needless  to  say,  Cornelia  exhibited  no  compunc- 
tion for  the  serious  inconvenience  that  all  this  caused 
Robert.  Far  from  it.  She  appeared  to  get  a  lively  satis- 
faction from  seeing  his  partnership  bedeviled  and  his  remon- 
strances ignored. 

As  a  fact,  she  feared  that  Robert's  influence  over  Janet 
was  quietly  undermining  her  own  ascendancy.  But  what 
was  there  to  justify  this  fear?  Janet's  enthusiasm  for  the 
free  life  of  the  model  tenements  had  not  yet  abated  and 
her  admiration  for  Cornelia's  talents  was  still  very  strong. 
But  a  straw  showed  Cornelia  which  way  the  wind  was 
blowing. 

Janet  was  gradually  but  steadily  cutting  down  the 
amount  of  housework  she  did  in  Flat  Number  Fifteen! 

The  terms  on  which  Cornelia  chummed  up  with  her  suc- 
cessive companions  always  included  an  agreement  to  have 
the  housework  done,  share  and  share  alike.  In  practice, 
the  adoring  friend  took  over  most  of  Cornelia's  share, 
at  least  while  the  friendship  was  in  its  early  stages. 
As  time  went  on  and  illusions  were  shattered,  the  unequal 
burden  was  slowly  whittled  away  by  the  active  partner 
until  Cornelia's  shoulders  stood  in  grave  danger  of  having 
a  full  half  of  the  cleaning  and  marketing  thrust  upon  them. 
At  this  point,  she  generally  unearthed  a  new  adorer  as  well 
as  excellent  reasons  for  breaking  with  the  old  one;  and  then 
she  started  the  whole  cycle  afresh. 

Like  her  predecessor,  Janet  had  begun  by  doing  far  more 
errands,  dishes  and  cooking,  than  a  strictly  fair  division 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  211 

called  for.  At  first,  the  respective  proportions  had  stood  at 
about  three-quarters  for  Janet  and  one-quarter  for  Cornelia. 
After  a  few  days  of  this  arrangement,  however,  Janet  had 
begun  so  to  manipulate  matters  that  her  allotment  fell 
rapidly  to  one-half.  And  the  pendulum  had  swung  gaily 
on.  In  fine,  within  a  few  months  of  her  arrival,  this  new 
convert  to  modernity  had  reversed  the  original  proportions 
so  that  they  now  stood  at  about  three-quarters  for  Cornelia 
and  one-quarter  for  Janet. 

If  this  was  feminism  —  Cornelia  confided  to  Hercules 
("among  the  faithless,  faithful  only  he") — it  was  feminism 
with  a  vengeance! 

The  situation  was  without  precedent  in  the  history  of 
the  Outlaws  of  Kips  Bay.  Even  more  unprecedented  was 
Cornelia's  acceptance  of  the  situation.  But  this  compliance 
of  hers  was  in  no  wise  dictated  by  generosity  or  affection, 
as  some  innocents  conjectured.  Cornelia  was  simply  shrewd 
enough  to  see  that  Janet  was  the  magnet  which  had  drawn 
back  to  Number  Fifteen  its  departed  splendor  and  had 
restored  to  herself  the  position  of  the  first  lady  of  the  Loril- 
lard  tenements,  a  position  she  greatly  prized. 

One  question  that  Cornelia  put  to  Hercules  was:  Had 
Janet's  repugnance  for  housework  merely  kept  pace  with 
her  growing  appetite  for  women's  rights,  or  was  Robert 
Lloyd  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  mischief?  How  should  the 
mute  and  glorious  Hercules  reply  to  a  purely  rhetorical 
query?  — Cornelia  favored  the  second  explanation,  a  fact 
which  boded  Robert  no  good. 


212  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

III 

Although  Robert  had  in  no  sense  entered  the  lists  as  one 
of  Janet's  suitors,  Cornelia  instituted  comparisons  between 
him  and  Claude,  never  to  the  former's  advantage.  She  took 
occasion  to  contrast  Claude's  noble  bearing  and  look  of 
sovereign  strength  with  Robert's  simpler  and  frailer  appear- 
ance. She  dwelt  on  the  cosmopolitan  aura  that  clung  to 
Claude,  his  subtle  atmosphere  of  wealth,  breeding  and  high 
social  origin,  the  amalgam  of  gorgeous  qualities  that  offered 
so  much  more  than  Robert's  radical  connections  and 
straitened  financial  circumstances.  Her  trump  card  was 
to  call  attention  to  Claude's  free  and  easy  response  to  the 
Lorillard  conception  of  the  rights  of  women  and  to  offset 
this  picture  with  an  allusion  to  Robert's  prudent  reserva- 
tions on  the  same  subject. 

If  these  comparisons  were  of  an  offhand  and  haphazard 
sort,  nothing  was  thereby  lost  in  effectiveness.  Far  from 
it.  They  glorified  Claude  by  what  was  carelessly  said: 
they  damaged  Robert  by  what  was  carefully  left  unsaid. 

Although  unaware  of  the  Machiavellian  promptings  of 
which  she  was  the  innocent  cause,  Janet  became  dimly 
conscious  of  the  conflict  already  sensed  by  Robert,  the  con- 
flict between  her  work  (which  was  bound  up  with  Robert) 
and  her  love  affair  (which  was  somehow  bound  up  with 
Cornelia  as  well  as  with  Claude).  She  felt  the  tug  of 
Robert  one  way  and  the  tug  of  Claude  and  Cornelia  the 
other  way,  without  fully  grasping  the  difference  in  the  two 
directions  or  the  final  significance  of  either  goal. 

It  was  Claude,  however,  and  not  Cornelia,  that  gave 
Janet's  friendship  with  Robert  an  importance  that  none 
of  those  concerned  attached  to  it.  Claude  simply  could  not 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  213 

understand  why  Janet  should  refuse  to  neglect  Robert's 
League,  whenever  the  work  of  the  League  stood  in  the  way 
of  their  outings  together.  Economic  independence,  the  rea- 
son advanced  by  Janet,  was  a  reason  he  laughed  at.  The 
words  meant  hardly  anything  to  one  who  from  birth  had 
been  glutted  with  the  thing  itself.  Surely  a  few  beggarly 
dollars,  more  or  less,  did  not  adequately  account  for  Janet's 
readiness  to  cloister  herself  in  Kelly's  bare  and  sunless 
study!  Yet  what  other  motive  could  there  be,  if  not  one 
of  tender  feeling  on  Robert's  part,  or  soft  pity  on  hers? 

Still,  the  rivalry  that  actually  sprang  up  between  the 
two  young  men  was  not  a  rivalry  in  love,  at  least  not  in 
Robert's  sense  of  the  word. 

For  Robert  was  no  fool.  He  was  soon  convinced  that 
Claude  and  Janet  had  surrendered  unconditionally  to  a 
mutual  infatuation  which  he  was  in  no  position  to  chal- 
lenge. Yet  he  had  a  magnetism  of  his  own,  a  magnetism 
of  the  spirit  rather  than  of  the  flesh.  To  this  magnetism 
Janet  responded.  Why  should  he  not  claim  the  same  title 
to  Janet's  response  in  the  one  sphere  that  Claude  laid  claim 
to  in  the  other? 

At  all  events,  he  meant  to  fight  for  what  he  considered  his 
rights,  regardless  of  Claude's  frowns  or  vanishing  friendship. 

Between  the  two,  Janet  had  a  hard  time  of  it.  Claude 
professed  to  accept  free  love  as  a  new  and  improved  social 
principle,  and  praised  her  for  holding  it;  yet  he  grew  un- 
manageable the  moment  she  gave  the  least  hint  of  exercis- 
ing this  freedom  in  connection  with  any  other  man  than 
himself.  On  the  other  hand,  Robert  rejected  free  love  as 
a  pernicious  Greenwich  Village  or  Lorillard  tenement  eccen- 
tricity, and  even  severely  scolded  her  for  entertaining  it; 


214  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

yet  his  actions  showed  that  she  might  love  as  many  different 
men  as  madly  as  she  pleased,  without  causing  his  friendship 
for  her  to  undergo  any  really  radical  change. 

To  cap  the  oddity  of  this  contrast,  she  found  that 
Robert's  unlimited  tolerance,  though  socially  much  the  more 
agreeable  attitude,  was  not  without  its  suggestion  of  tepid- 
ity of  sentiment,  a  suggestion  which  piqued  her  not  a  little. 

The  rivalry,  such  as  it  was,  followed  a  very  human 
course.  Robert,  as  an  outgrowth  of  his  work  with  Janet, 
took  to  promoting  her  education  in  contemporary  thought 
and  political  theory.  Claude,  not  to  be  behindhand,  made 
the  most  of  his  special  knowledge  of  art  as  well  as  of  his 
wide  first-hand  acquaintance  with  the  men  and  events  that 
figured  picturesquely  in  the  ruling  social  and  political  rings 
of  Washington  and  New  York.  In  the  matter  of  books, 
Claude  generally  took  the  cue  from  Robert.  The  latter 
would  lend  her  works  by  Shaw,  Wells,  Bennett,  Galsworthy, 
Bertrand  Russell,  Anatole  France,  Barbusse,  Romaine  Rol- 
land;  Claude  would  follow  suit  with  the  latest  fiction  by 
Robert  W.  Chambers  or  Rupert  Hughes,  his  authors  rang- 
ing as  high  as  Rudyard  Kipling,  Maeterlinck  or  Barrie. 
One  would  take  her  to  a  symphony  concert  in  Carnegie 
Hall,  the  other  to  a  Sunday  Pop  in  the  Hippodrome. 
Robert  held  out  invitations  to  a  Theater  Guild's  play  by 
Masefield  or  Andreyev,  Claude  would  counter  with  an  eve- 
ning at  a  revival  of  Florodora  or  San  Toy.  If  Janet  accom- 
panied Robert  to  a  Labor  Mass  Meeting  at  Cooper  Union  or 
to  a  radical  Cameraderie  at  the  Civic  Club,  she  was  sure, 
soon  after,  to  be  escorted  by  Claude  to  a  Titta  Ruffo  recital 
in  Aeolian  Hall  or  to  a  midnight  cabaret  in  Moloch's  Den 
off  Sheridan  Square. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  215 

To  Janet,  who  had  broken  with  the  Barrs  of  Brooklyn 
and  who  was  as  much  on  pleasure  as  on  emancipation  bent, 
it  was  not  Robert's  offer  that  usually  seemed  the  happier 
one. 

Not  the  least  of  Claude's  advantages  was  the  fact  that 
he  moved  in  Kips  Bay  as  a  representative  of  the  great 
forces  of  finance  and  fashion.  He  reflected  the  high  lights 
of  that  glittering  social  system  of  which  he  was  a  favorite 
child.  Direct  and  intimate  was  his  contact  with  the  celebri- 
ties of  the  day — the  bankers  and  politicians,  the  diplomats 
and  society  leaders,  the  cabinet  set  in  Washington,  and  the 
inner  opera  box  set  in  New  York.  These  were  his  real 
people;  the  Lorillarders  were  merely  the  people  among 
whom  he  was  sowing  his  radical  wild  oats. 

In  short,  Claude  was  one  of  the  persons  "in  the  know." 
He  knew  a  good  deal  more  about  the  personages  whose 
names  were  on  everybody's  tongues  than  the  public  knew 
or  the  newspapers  thought  fit  to  print.  He  could  tell  about 
the  opera  soprano  of  the  first  magnitude  whose  attacks  of 
hysterical  jealousy  would  cause  the  curtain  to  be  held  down 
between  the  acts  for  forty  minutes,  while  the  poor  director 
tore  his  hair  in  desperation.  He  could  laugh  at  the  "mys- 
tery" of  the  appointment  of  a  certain  mediocre  woman 
teacher  to  a  superintendency  in  the  city's  schools,  the 
mystery  vanishing  upon  his  inside  story  of  how  the  lady  in 
question  "had  been  good"  to  Big  Jim  Connolly,  a  local 
political  boss.  And  he  could  explain  the  connection  between 
the  failure  to  float  a  certain  foreign  loan  and  the  omission 
of  a  well-known  financier's  wife  from  the  group  of  guests 
invited  to  meet  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

Thus  Claude  Fontaine,  whose  handsome  face  and'  dash- 


216  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

ing  airs  would  have  made  him  an  idol  in  almost  any  society, 
enchanted  his  fellow  Outlaws  with  the  aroma  clinging  to 
him  from  the  world  of  fashion  and  the  glimpses  he  afforded 
into  the  secret  workings  of  the  world  of  power.  Small 
wonder  that  to  Janet,  as  to  the  others,  Claude  was  bathed 
in  a  romantic  glamor. 

By  contrast  with  Claude,  Robert  seemed  to  lead  a  decid- 
edly work-a-day  or  humdrum  life.  Especially  so,  since 
his  newspaper  employment  had  been  cut  off  and  his  active 
time  given  up  to  the  League  of  Guildsmen.  As  far  as  Janet 
could  see,  Robert's  entire  thought  and  energy  were  absorbed 
by  an  overwhelming  interest  in  the  Labor  movement.  For 
though  he  had  plenty  of  esthetic  diversions,  she  noticed 
that  the  books  he  read,  the  music  he  delighted  in,  'and  the 
pictures  he  admired  were  all  in  some  way  expressive  of 
souls  in  bondage,  aspiring  to  freedom. 

Now  for  the  time  being,  Janet  wanted  to  forget  about 
the  lowly  and  the  oppressed.  She  had  the  same  feeling 
towards  "causes"  and  "reforms"  that  a  released  convict 
has  towards  societies  for  Improving  the  Condition  of  Pris- 
oners on  Parole. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Janet  took  an  unsympa- 
thetic view  of  the  movements  for  human  freedom  which 
were  convulsing  society  after  the  Great  War.  She  was  a 
sincere  convert  to  the  principle  of  woman's  equality  and  she 
made  an  honest  effort  to  be  open-minded  to  the  theories 
that  Robert  expounded.  But  her  heart  was  not  in  theories. 
Her  pulse  refused  to  quicken  when  Robert  told  her  of  the 
new  social  cleavage  which  was  fast  ranging  the  useful 
active  people  on  one  side,  and  the  parasitic  profiteering 
people  on  the  other.  In  common  with  a  great  many  of  her 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  217 

contemporaries,  she  sat  heedlessly  on  a  volcano,  enchanted 
by  the  twinkle  of  the  stars. 

What  if  Robert  did  prove  up  to  the  hilt  that  the  world 
was  in  the  birth  throes  of  a  new  social  order!  Youth  must 
have  its  glamor.  And  there  is  no  glamor  about  birth 
throes,  not  even  about  the  birth  throes  of  a  new  world 

Besides,  the  old  social  alignment  hi  which  princes  of  the 
purple  and  masters  of  the  gold  ruled  in  pomp  or  circum- 
stance over  the  toilers  of  the  factory,  the  office  and  the  soil — 
this  old  alignment  was  much  more  familiar  to  poor  Janet 
(and  to  everybody  else)  than  the  new  one  predicted.  Litera- 
ture and  legend,  the  school  room,  the  pulpit  and  the  press — 
all  the  regular  organs  of  education,  in  fact — had  mesmer- 
ized her  into  viewing  the  practical  politics  and  the  dominant 
economics  of  the  day  as  splendors  and  glories  without 
parallel.  Was  the  psychology  of  a  lifetime  to  be  uprooted 
or  transformed  by  a  few  weeks  of  unconventional  conduct 
in  a  Kips  Bay  tenement,  or  even  by  a  brief  high-tension 
course  of  reading  in  the  works  of  Samuel  Butler,  Bernard 
Shaw,  Romaine  Rolland  and  other  prophets  of  the  life  to 
come? 

Clearly  not.  And  so  when  Claude  came  with  his  many- 
colored  news  from  the  seats  of  the  mighty,  he  found  it  easy 
to  engross  and  transport  Janet.  But  when  Robert  talked 
to  her  of  strikes,  trade  unions  and  labor  congresses,  he  left 
her  bewildered  or  mystified,  though  seldom  cold.  In  short, 
the  rivalry  even  for  the  mind  of  Janet  was  a  rather  one- 
sided affair,  Claude,  the  darling  of  the  gods,  holding  an 
immense  initial  advantage  over  Robert,  the  advocate  of 
rebel  causes. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 
I 

On  an  afternoon  late  in  May,  Claude  took  Janet  to  see 
the  boat  race  between  Yale  and  Pennsylvania  over  the  so- 
called  American  Henley  course  on  the  Schuylkill.  Nature 
was  in  one  of  her  soft  and  sober  moods.  The  weather  was 
mild,  the  sky  lightly  overcast,  and  the  colors  of  the  land- 
scape as  well  as  of  the  living  things  upon  it  were  toned 
down  to  various  shades  of  slate,  dove  or  lavender,  all 
blending  into  the  serious  beauty  of  a  dominant  pearl  gray. 

After  the  race,  while  the  crowds  were  melting  away,  the 
two  lovers  walked  into  the  pathway  along  the  river.  Per- 
haps in  response  to  the  pallid  coloring  around,  Claude 
became  a  prey  to  melancholy  thoughts;  and  the  day,  the 
mood  and  the  girl  impelled  him  to  confidences  about  the 
marriage  with  Marjorie  Armstrong  into  which  he  felt  him- 
self being  forced. 

Janet  made  an  ideal  confidante.  The  exercise  of  putting 
herself  sympathetically  into  other  people's  shoes  was  a  joy 
to  her.  Not  only  did  she  see  herself  as  others  saw  her; 
she  had  the  rarer  gift  of  seeing  others  as  she  saw  herself. 
In  doing  so,  she  could  leave  her  own  desires  and  feelings 
entirely  out  of  the  prospect.  Thus,  the  story  of  Claude 
and  Marjorie,  like  any  other  human  drama,  appealed  to 
her  judgment  on  its  merits.  Nor  did  she  disturb  Claude 
with  the  intrusion  of  any  vulgar  jealousy  because  the  lover 
was  her  own  lover  and  the  woman  was  a  rival  woman. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  219 

The  narrative  began  with  the  tenderness  Claude  had  con- 
ceived for  Marjorie  some  two  years  before.  He  told  Janet 
how  the  proud  beauty  had  first  encouraged  him  and  then, 
with  unexampled  coolness,  had  allowed  the  Earl  of  Dunbar 
to  displace  him  in  her  favor.  Later  the  Earl  in  his  turn 
had  jilted  Marjorie.  Could  he  be  asked  to  care  for  her 
after  such  an  ill-starred  episode? 

Unluckily,  he  was  by  now  far  the  most  desirable  match 
among  the  young  men  whose  names  she  consented  to  put 
on  her  list  of  eligibles.  In  this  preference  she  had  her 
father's  hearty  support.  Naturally.  For  Mr.  Armstrong  was 
a  slave  of  every  wish  she  framed.  Meanwhile,  his  own  father 
had  the  most  urgent  private  reasons  for  promoting  the 
Armstrong  project. 

"You  see  my  horrible  position,"  he  said.  "I'm  expected 
to  marry  a  girl  I  don't  love  in  order  to  get  my  father  out 
of  a  bad  box.  It's  like  a  story  of  the  eighteenth  century; 
only,  in  those  happy  days,  it  was  the  daughter,  not  the 
son,  who  had  to  pull  the  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire." 

"But  surely,  Claude,  not  all  the  king's  horses  nor  all 
the  king's  men  can  compel  you  to  marry  if  you  don't  want 
to." 

"No,  but  compulsion  isn't  the  only  form  of  coercion  in 
the  world,  Janet.  Nor  even  the  worst.  Can  you  think 
what  it  means  to  have  everybody  in  your  set  expecting  you 
to  do  a  certain  thing?" 

"Expecting  you?" 

"Yes,  it  sounds  fantastic.  But  it  would  sound  real 
enough  if  once  you  had  a  taste  of  it.  They  show  their 
expectations  by  word  and  deed,  by  sign  and  innuendo. 
They  show  it  constantly,  mercilessly,  in  a  hundred  small 


220  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

and  super-subtle  ways.  I  tell  you,  Janet,  concerted  expec- 
tation is  the  strongest  form  of  pressure  that  can  be  brought 
to  bear  upon  a  man.  It  can  bring  about  miracles.  It  can 
move  mountains.  Only  a  hero  or  a  coward  can  resist  it." 

"I  suppose  it's  like  the  pressure  of  public  opinion  or  of 
one's  family,"  she  said,  her  soft  clarinet  tones  pouring  balm 
on  his  feelings.  "I  know  what  family  pressure  means.  I 
am  so  sorry  for  you,  Claude,  sorry  from  my  heart." 

"I  love  you  for  saying  that,  Janet!  I  love  you  for  your 
adorable  pity.  I  love  you  for  being  so  unlike  Marjorie. 
She  has  her  good  points;  but  fellow  feeling  is  not  one  of 
them.  You  see,  her  social  ambition  and  the  ease  with 
which  she  can  gratify  her  every  wish  have  quite  dried  up 
the  tender  places  in  her  heart.  She  has  no  pity  left  in  her 
nature.  And  pity  is  always  the  essential  thing  in  a  woman's 
soul." 

They  sat  down  on  a  grassy  slope  in  a  secluded  corner  of 
the  park.  In  a  lyrical  mood,  Claude  pointed  to  the  sun 
just  then  flaring  out  and  splashing  a  thousand  colors  on  the 
livid  sky. 

"Look,  Janet,"  he  said,  "how  the  whole  earth  thrills  to  its 
warm  radiance!  Just  as  everyone  thrills  to  your  divine 
gift  of  sympathy." 

He  was  lying  on  the  ground  with  his  head  in  her  lap, 
while  her  hand  was  gently  stroking  his  curly  hair. 

"I  am  so  happy  to  be  in  this  spot  with  you,  Claude,  and 
to  hear  from  your  lips  the  things  that  only  you  can  say. 
When  you  make  love  to  me,  I  feel  as  though  I  were  in  some 
Enchanted  Valley  with  a  prince  from  the  Arabian  Nights." 

"Yes,  and  he  a  miracle  of  discretion,  too!" 

"A  miracle  of  indiscretion,  rather  1"  said  Janet,  as  he 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  221 

drew  her  head  down  to  his,  kissed  her  once  and  kissed  her 
again. 

He  soon  became  pensive,  however.  Pursuing  his  former 
train  of  thought,  he  declared  that  if  he  remained  in  New 
York,  "public  expectation"  would  certainly  drive  him  into 
the  dreaded  marriage  with  Marjorie.  There  was  only  one 
avenue  of  escape.  That  was  to  go  abroad  and  stay  out  of 
harm's  way  until  Marjorie  should  choose  some  one  else  as 
in  due  time  she  was  bound  to  do. 

"But  the  force  that  holds  me  back,"  he  said,  "is  far 
stronger  than  the  one  that  bids  me  go.  I  can't  live  without 
you,  Janet,  darling." 

"Then  I  suppose  you'll  have  to  take  me  along,"  she  said, 
bending  low  over  him. 

Their  lips  met  in  a  sustained  and  ardent  kiss. 

"No,"  he  said.  "I  dare  not  assume  a  responsibility  so 
great." 

"If  I  go  with  you,"  she  said  quietly,  "I  shall  go  on  my 
own  responsibility." 

"Janet,  it  would  be  too  wonderful.  Don't  let  me  think 
of  it,  or  my  good  resolutions  will  stand  no  firmer  than  a 
flag  in  a  strong  wind.  But  you  are  an  angel  to  offer  to 
come.  You  do  love  me  then,  very,  very  much?" 

"What  a  question,  Claude!" 

"Well,  you  keep  a  pretty  tight  rein  on  your  feelings,  dar- 
ling," he  said,  with  the  least  trace  of  reproach.  "Tender 
and  true  you  are,  I  know,"  he  added.  "But  you  don't  say 
any  of  the  things  that  girls  say  when  their  hearts  are  in  the 
grip  of  a  wild,  extravagant  passion.  Do  you  know  that  you 
have  never  even  asked  me  once  whether  I  really  and  truly 
and  madly  love  you?" 


222  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Whether  you  love  me?" 

"Yes,  that  is  the  question  girls  ask  their  lovers  over  and 
over  again." 

"Well,  Claude,  the  important  thing  to  me  is  that  /  love 
you." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  Janet,  that  you  don't  care  whether 
I  love  you  or  not?" 

"I  don't  mean  that.  But  what  I  care  about  most  is  that 
you  are  the  sort  of  man  whom  /  can  love.  That  is  the 
thing  that  makes  me  happy.  It's  delightful,  of  course, 
to  know  that  you  love  me  in  return.  Still,  if  you  didn't 
love  me,  I  don't  think  I  should  be  in  hopeless  misery.  If 
you  turned  out  to  be  different  from  what  I  dreamed  you 
were,  so  different  that  I  could  no  longer  love  you,  then  I 
should  be  heart-broken." 

To  Claude,  this  seemed  a  bitter-sweet  reply.  More  sweet 
than  bitter,  however,  and  so  he  did  not  contest  it. 

What  a  puzzling  girl  she  was,  he  thought.  So  sensible 
and  yet  so  imprudent.  And  totally  devoid  of  the  instinct 
that  induces  most  women  to  exploit  the  amorous  moment. 
Claude  could  not  get  over  it.  Any  other  girl  would  have 
made  the  most  of  his  present  mood,  the  mood  in  which  he 
was  ready  to  think  the  world  well  lost  for  love.  When  the 
blood  is  hot,  the  tongue  is  prodigal  of  vows.  Claude,  at 
all  events,  was  willing  to  promise  anything,  especially  as  he 
was  still  in  pursuit,  and  as  his  promises  were  not  to  mature 
until  he  was  in  possession. 

Yet  Janet  asked  absolutely  nothing!  This  surrender, 
as  open-handed  as  it  was  confiding,  moved  him  to  compunc- 
tion. He  sat  up  and  put  his  arms  around  her.  Her  head 
buried  in  his  shoulder  had  the  effect  of  seeking  refuge  there. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  223 

And  she  looked  so  trusting,  so  helpless,  so  innocent,  that  a 
great  love  for  her  welled  up  in  his  heart.  Ought  he  not  to 
do  the  noble,  the  chivalrous  thing? 

"Look  here,  Janet,"  he  said,  with  the  air  of  Sir  Philip 
Sidney  offering  his  last  drink  of  water  to  another  wounded 
soldier  on  the  battle  field,  "why  couldn't  we  be  married? 
My  father  would  get  over  it  in  time." 

f'Yes,  your  father  might.    But  we  might  not." 

"No,  no,  dearest.  You  mustn't  say  that.  My  love  is 
not  a  thing  of  whims  and  fancies.  I  shall  love  you  till  life 
itself  has  passed  away." 

"Then  what  difference  does  it  make  whether  we  get 
married  or  not,"  she  said. 

With  infinite  tact,  she  refrained  from  accepting  his  lofty 
pledge  of  eternal  constancy.  She  also  refrained  from  a 
similar  commitment  of  her  own  affections. 

"Don't  misunderstand  me,  Janet,"  he  said,  as  sadly  as 
if  her  disagreement  cut  him  to  the  soul.  "I  merely  felt 
in  honor  bound  to  offer  to  marry  you.  I  know  better  than 
you  do  what  an  unconventional  step  means." 

"All  the  more  reason  why  I  should  learn  by  experience, 
then.  No,  Claude.  If  I  married  you,  I'm  sure  I  should 
soon  stop  loving  you.  The  thought  that  you  had  a  legal 
claim  on  my  affection  would  be  enough  to  kill  it." 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  take  the  law  so  seriously,  darling.  No- 
body does,  nowadays." 

"I  know  nothing  about  the  law,  Claude,"  she  said,  repudi- 
ating all  jurisprudence  with  one  of  her  eloquent  gestures. 
"Do  you  want  us  to  become  a  careworn,  broken-spirited, 
isolated  married  couple,  hating  all  the  other  careworn, 
broken-spirited,  isolated  married  couples  of  the  western 


224  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

world?  Do  you  want  me  to  grow  to  hate  and  despise  you 
as  my  mother  hates  and  despises  my  father,  as  so  many 
wives  appear  secretly  to  hate  and  despise  their  husbands?" 

"How  can  you  say  such  monstrous  things,  Janet?" 

"How  can  you  pretend  to  believe  that  love  should  be 
free?"  she  retorted. 

"Well,"  he  replied,  "I  admit  there's  a  lot  in  what  you 
say.  I  suppose,"  he  added  with  a  fine  masculine  irrele- 
vance, "that  we  can  always  change  our  minds  and  get 
married  later  on  if  we  choose  to." 

He  could  not  fully  persuade  himself  that  Janet  really 
believed  in  free  love.  Nevertheless,  he  was  hugely  relieved 
to  learn  that,  whatever  her  motive  might  be,  she  had  no 
ulterior  matrimonial  designs  on  him.  If  only  he  could  have 
suppressed  a  sneaking  fear  that  he  was  "taking  advantage" 
of  Janet,  as  he  called  it,  or  satisfied  himself  that  he  was 
legitimately  taking  the  good  the  gods  provided,  as  the  Out- 
laws boldly  called  a  step  of  this  sort! 

But  Claude's  Bohemianism  was  only  skin-deep.  Like 
a  good  many  Bohemians,  he  discarded  traditional  forms, 
costly  conventions  and  social  restrictions,  chiefly  in  order 
to  extract  from  social  intercourse  and  philandering,  the 
greatest  amount  of  pleasure  with  the  smallest  amount  of 
risk.  Being  a  Bohemian  was  merely  a  sybaritic  pastime  for 
him. 

In  short,  Claude  lacked  the  courage  of  his  experiments. 
The  only  morality  he  genuinely  believed  in  was  the  current 
morality  (and  immorality)  of  his  peers.  Thus  loose  love 
could  be  allowed  to  have  a  certain  place  in  the  scheme  of 
things,  but  free  love,  as  an  avowed  principle,  was  incontes- 
tably  wrong.  Claude  might  humor  the  model  tenementers 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  225 

to  the  extent  of  using  their  free-love  propaganda  for  his  own 
ends.  At  heart,  however,  he  was  profoundly  shocked  by 
Janet's  stubborn  contention  that  her  views  of  marriage, 
though  glaringly  heterodox,  were  morally  sound. 

As  Claude  had  worked  it  out,  there  were  two  ways  of 
getting  past  the  limitations  of  a  social  institution.  One  was 
to  support  the  institution  while  sneaking  over  the  fences 
and  enjoying  the  secret  breach  of  law  as  a  delightful  bit 
of  "living  in  sin."  The  other  way  was  to  defy  the  insti- 
tution by  boldly  climbing  over  the  fences  and  asserting  the 
sin  to  be  a  virtue.  Surely,  the  first  was  the  pleasanter,  the 
wiser,  nay,  the  more  ethical  proceeding! 

Of  course  Claude  did  not  reason  the  distinction  out  as 
clearly  as  this.  But  he  felt  its  force  and,  for  his  part, 
was  resolved  to  act  upon  it.  However,  he  did  not  attempt 
to  convert  Janet  to  his  way  of  thinking.  That  would  have 
been  fraught  with  peril  to  the  smoothness  of  their  future 
relations.  Besides,  a  long  didactic  argument  would  have 
spoiled  the  tender  passages  in  the  journey  home.  And 
Claude  never  encouraged  his  conscience  to  make  a  martyr 
of  him. 


II 

When  they  got  back  to  Kips  Bay,  they  found  Cornelia 
and  her  Hercules  in  Number  Fifteen.  Harry  Kelly,  silent 
and.  worshipful,  was  washing  the  accumulated  dishes  of  the 
day,  in  a  supreme  exhibition  of  devotion.  His  inamorata, 
ensconced  in  state  in  her  favorite  armchair,  was  tacking  a 
blue  denim  smock  together  with  bits  of  fancy  colored 
worsteds. 


226  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

She  announced  her  intention  of  marching  in  the  parade 
of  the  Overalls  Economy  Club,  an  organization  recently 
formed  to  protest  against  the  high  cost  of  living. 

Robert,  it  appeared,  had  greeted  this  announcement  with 
gibes  and  with  an  ironic  contrast  between  her  expenditure 
of  time  and  her  economy  of  money.  Nor  had  he  confined 
his  sarcasm  to  her. 

"What  do  you  suppose  Cato  said  when  I  told  him  about 
the  parade?"  Cornelia  retailed  vindictively.  "He  said, 
'I  suppose  Claude  will  march,  too?  He  will  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  getting  the  right  kind  of  uniform.  In  the  Times 
this  morning,  a  Fifth  Avenue  store  advertises  overalls  with 
solid  gold  buckles  from  fifty  dollars  up.' " 

"There's  a  typical  reformer  for  you,"  said  Claude,  bit- 
terly. "Always  shying  bricks  at  the  very  people  that 
want  to  build  with  them." 

Hereupon,  Cornelia,  in  the  role  of  a  loyal  though  long- 
suffering  friend  of  Robert's,  undertook  to  extenuate  his 
conduct.  She  observed  that  he  had  doubtless  been  made 
angry  because  his  work  was  retarded  by  Janet's  absences. 
The  best  proof  of  his  state  of  mind  was  a  threat  he  had 
made  to  engage  another  secretary. 

"I  wish  he  would,"  said  Claude,  compressing  his  lips, 
while  Janet  tried  not  to  look  conscience-stricken. 

"Of  course  he  doesn't  in  the  least  mean  to  part  with 
Araminta,"  continued  Cornelia,  wallowing  in  the  emotional 
effect  of  her  news.  "Not  he.  Cato  knows  a  good  thing 
when  he  sees  it.  But  he  doesn't  approve  of  Janet's  parties 
with  you,  Lothario.  The  principle  is  wrong,  he  claims." 

"The  principle  is  wrong!"  cried  both  Claude  and  Janet 
with  very  different  inflections. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  227 

Cornelia  laughed  musically  up  and  down  the  scale. 

"Just  fancy  what  he  said:  'A  friendship  which  doesn't 
grow  spontaneously  out  of  joint  partnership  in  work  is 
built  on  quicksands.' " 

"He's  a  fanatic,"  said  Harry  Kelly,  breaking  his  silence 
and  one  of  Cornelia's  saucers  in  the  violence  of  his  feelings. 

"Nonsense,  Hercules,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  that  poured 
contempt  on  his  vehemence.  "He  has  simply  let  all  the 
soft  places  grow  in  his  head  and  all  the  hard  places  in  his 
heart." 

Janet  went  into  the  next  room  to  hang  up  her  hat  and 
coat.  Claude  followed  her. 

"I  think  Robert's  ideas  are  getting  more  and  more  un- 
balanced," he  said,  dictatorially.  "If  I  were  you,  Janet, 
I'd  finish  up  my  work  with  him  at  once." 

"It  takes  two  to  break  a  bargain,  Claude." 

"Well,  you  might  at  least  keep  your  relations  with  him 
on  a  strictly  business  footing  —  and  as  little  of  that  as 
possible." 

He  ignored  her  slight  mutinous  gesture. 

"He's  a  difficult  man  to  get  along  with,"  he  went  on. 
"Look  how  even  Hutchins  Burley  had  to  fire  him.  And 
as  if  his  dismissal  from  the  Chronicle  were  not  bad  enough, 
he  joins  these  Guildsmen  people  who  are  trying  to  wreck 
the  very  basis  of  modern  society.  That  has  just  about 
dished  him,  as  far  as  the  Outlaws  are  concerned.  They 
all  cut  him  now." 

A  new  imperiousness  crept  into  his  voice  as  he  added: 

"I  wish  that,  for  my  sake,  you  would  not  be  seen  going 
about  with  him,  ever." 

He  accepted  her  silence  as  an  evidence  of  tacit  consent. 


228  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

III 

The  very  next  afternoon,  before  a  full  hour's  writing 
and  typing  had  been  done,  Robert  amazed  Janet  by  pro- 
posing that  they  suspend  work  and  take  a  walk. 

"I  want  particularly  to  talk  to  you,"  he  said. 

"About  what?" 

"About  love,"  said  Robert,  gravely. 

What  girl  could  resist  an  invitation  like  that?  Despite 
Claude's  stern  admonition,  Janet  did  not  wait  to  be  urged. 

They  walked  near  the  East  River  towards  the  gas-house 
district,  and  presently  turned  into  a  recreation  pier  which 
was  almost  deserted.  Clearly,  Robert  was  looking  for  a 
very  private  and  sequestered  corner. 

On  the  way,  every  topic  was  broached  except  the  one 
that  Robert  had  advanced  as  an  excuse  for  truancy.  Did 
suspense  sharpen  Janet's  anticipation?  No.  Janet  was 
curious,  but  not  consumedly  so.  She  had  a  marvelous 
power  of  attracting  confidences  and  was  quite  used  to  hav- 
ing young  men,  who  had  known  her  only  a  few  days,  con- 
fide in  her  their  love  affairs,  their  religious  or  financial 
troubles,  and  indeed  the  whole  history  of  their  lives.  True, 
Robert  might  be  in  love,  not  with  another  girl  but  with 
herself.  Having  no  false  modesty,  Janet  entertained  the 
suspicion  for  a  moment.  Only  for  a  moment,  however.  For 
the  presumption  against  it  seemed  conclusive. 

Meanwhile,  they  walked  happily  along,  until  Robert 
found  the  spot  that  suited  him.  This  was  at  the  end  of 
the  pier  farthest  from  the  street.  No  watchman  being  in 
sight,  they  sat  down  on  a  great  terminal  beam  and  let 
their  legs  swing  over  the  green  and  choppy  water. 

The  Janet  who  laughed  and  chatted  with  Robert  was  a 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  229 

very  different  girl  from  the  Janet  who  was  accustomed  to 
hang  romantically  on  Claude's  lips.  Nothing,  of  course, 
could  equal  the  magnetism  of  Claude  or  match  the  fire  and 
glory  of  their  mutual  passion.  Still,  in  Claude's  presence 
she  seemed  constantly  to  be  playing  up  to  some  magnificent 
part;  she  felt  like  a  cross  between,  say,  the  Lady  of  Shalott 
and  the  ecstatic  lady  in  the  Song  of  Songs.  Without  deny- 
ing that  it  was  a  rapturous  game,  a  game  well  worth  the 
candle,  she  found  it  a  trifle  exhausting. 

With  Robert,  on  the  other  hand,  the  high-tension,  party- 
dress  Janet  could  be  put  away  (so  to  speak)  and  the  simple, 
work-a-day,  blouse-and-skirt  Janet  substituted.  Now  Janet 
was  the  kind  of  girl  who  always  looked  her  worst  in  her 
best  things  and  was  most  herself  when  least  dressed  up. 
Naturally,  she  did  not  apply  this  symbol  to  her  two 
friendships.  Being  a  young,  rebellious,  and  infatuated 
young  lady,  how  could  she?  Besides,  had  she  done  so,  she 
might  have  reasoned  the  matter  out  to  a  disturbing  con- 
clusion. 

"Well,  Robert,"  she  said,  cheerily.  "Begin,  and  tell  me 
all  that's  in  your  heart  of  hearts." 

"It's  not  my  heart  I  mean  to  talk  about.    It's  yours." 

"Mine!  What  an  idea!  Why,  my  heart's  in  the  pink 
of  condition.  Positively  no  inspection  needed. 

'Oh  my  heart  is  a  free  and  a  fetterless  thing, 
A  wave  of  the  ocean,  a  bird  on  the  wing.' 
I  don't  mean  to  say  that  it's  a  flighty  object,  though,"  she 
added,  with  a  smile. 

"No,  if  it  were,  it  would  be  much  easier  to  talk  to  you 
about  it,"  said  Robert. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 


230  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Well,  a  whole  century  separates  the  Janet  I  first  knew 
—  the  Janet  who  hesitated  to  go  to  a  picture  play  on  the 
Sabbath  —  from  the  Janet  who  reads  Bernard  Shaw  and 
Bertrand  Russell,  attends  labor  meetings  on  Sundays,  and 
catches  each  newest  whiff  of  radical  opinion.  The  change 
takes  one's  breath  away." 

"You  admit  it's  a  change  for  the  better,  don't  you?" 

"In  every  way  but  one." 

"Which  one?" 

"You  have  taken  Cornelia  too  seriously.  Her  views  on 
sex  are  morbid  and  totally  unsuited  for  adoption  by  a 
healthy,  inexperienced  girl." 

"Now,  Robert,  please  don't  begin  that  over  again. 
You've  said  it  all  before." 

"I  shall  say  it  and  say  it  again  until  I've  convinced 
you.  Even  you  must  admit  that  Cornelia  has  a  chronic 
grudge  against  men." 

"Well,  it  isn't  so  unnatural,  after  her  unhappy  love 
affair,  is  it?" 

"Precisely.  As  a  result  of  that  love  affair,  all  her  sex 
emotions  are  inverted.  She  sublimates  her  sex  into  acts  of 
spite,  usually  unconscious  acts.  For  instance,  she  is  subtly 
encouraging  you  to  run  off  with  Claude  as  she  ran  off  with 
Percival  Houghton.  Forgive  me  for  mentioning  it,  Janet. 
But  I  can't  bear  to  see  you  duped.  Believe  me,  if  you 
followed  her  example,  with  an  equally  unhappy  result,  she 
would  like  nothing  better." 

"Claude  is  not  in  the  least  like  Percival  Houghton," 
said  Janet  coldly.  "Whatever  else  he  may  be,  he  isn't  a 
cad." 

"Of  course  he  isn't,"  Robert  hastened  to  say. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  231 

"Then  stop  making  horrid  comparisons.  It  is  such  an 
easy  thing  to  do.  Suppose  I  were  to  say  that  you  are  like 
an  X-ray  machine,  finding  out  all  that  is  bad  in  people, 
while  Claude  is  like  a  magnet  drawing  out  all  that  is  good 
in  them.  What  would  you  say  to  that  comparison?" 

"I  should  accept  it,"  replied  Robert,  with  a  smile.  "The 
superiority  of  the  X-ray  in  point  of  social  usefulness  is,  I 
think,  beyond  dispute." 

"Oh,  with  you  social  usefulness  is  everything,  and  per- 
sonal happiness  nothing!" 

"Suppose  Claude  is  a  magnet,"  he  went  on,  unheeding 
her  exclamation.  "Is  that  a  good  reason  for  flying  into 
his  arms,  like  a  willless  iron  filing,  on  his  terms  instead 
of  on  your  own?" 

"On  my  terms!     What  do  you  mean?" 

"Janet,  my  friendship  will  be  worse  than  useless  to  you 
unless  I  can  tell  you  exactly  what  is  in  my  mind.  I  either 
do  that  or  hold  my  peace  forever.  Will  you  let  me  speak 
frankly?" 

"Will  I  let  the  rain  fall  or  the  sun  shine?  I'd  like  to 
see  the  person  who  could  stop  you  from  speaking  frankly. 
But  please  don't  attack  Claude." 

"Have  no  fear.  I  don't  intend  to  play  the  part  of  the 
heroine's  second  friend  confidentially  warning  her  against 
the  first.  What  I  want  to  urge,  with  all  the  force  I  can,  is 
this:  if  you  mean  to  live  with  Claude,  why  not  marry  him?" 

"Quite  apart  from  my  own  preferences  in  the  matter, 
Robert,  how  do  you  know  that  Claude  wants  to  marry?" 

"Oh,  no  doubt  he  doesn't  want  to.  In  the  eyes  of  the 
modern  man,  marriages  made  in  Heaven  are  as  popular  as 
canned  beef  made  in  America.  But  what  of  that?  Claude 


232  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

is  young,  self-willed,  accustomed  to  get  his  own  way,  and — 
he  worships  you.  And  you  —  well,  I  have  no  superlatives 
to  do  justice  to  the  case.  You  are  you.  You  could  marry 
him  in  a  twinkling  if  you  played  your  cards  right." 

Janet  laughed. 

"Oh,  the  heart  is  a  free  and  a  fetterless  thing — "  she 
sang,  saucily. 

"Stop  coquetting  like  Cornelia,"  he  remonstrated.  "You 
are  making  it  totally  impossible  for  me  to  talk  rationally. 
Are  you  a  butterfly  or  a  woman?  Am  I  discussing 
your  glorious  voice  or  your  precarious  future?  Be 
serious." 

"How  can  I  be  serious  when  you  ask  me  to  be  a  bargain 
hunter  in  hearts  and  coronets?" 

"Now  you're  acting  like  one  of  Marie  Correlli's  heroines, 
Janet!" 

"Thank  you.  Why  are  you  so  anxious  to  have  me  get 
married?" 

"Because  I  think  that  your  fine  spirit  of  independence 
and  your  divine  gift  of  imagination  ought  not  lightly  to 
be  wasted.  Because  I  think,  in  short,  that  you  have  a 
nobler  purpose  in  the  world  than  mere  loving  or  being 
loved." 

"Than  mere  loving!" 

"Yes.  The  world  was  not  made  for  the  gratification  of 
our  own  feelings." 

"So  you  are  fond  of  saying,  Robert.  But,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  I'm  not  trying  to  gratify  my  feelings.  I'm  trying  to 
carry  out  my  principles." 

"The  world  isn't  a  grindstone  to  sharpen  our  principles 
on,  either,"  said  Robert,  with  prompt  conclusiveness. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  233 

"From  watching  you,  I  rather  thought  it  was,"  said 
Janet,  stung  into  sudden  irony. 

There  was  a  pause.  He  tried  to  take  her  hand,  but  she 
drew  it  sharply  away,  with  difficulty  repressing  her  tears. 
After  a  while,  he  began  again,  with  impetuous  candor: 

"Janet,  don't  go  into  this  adventure  with  your  eyes  shut. 
Remember,  you  can't  give  yourself  up  to  an  experiment 
in  free  love  without  giving  up  everything  else.  That  is  the 
strongest  argument  against  the  step.  All  your  gifts,  all 
your  energy,  all  your  purpose  will  be  consumed  in  explain- 
ing, defending,  evading.  Your  whole  life  will  be  one  long 
course  of  swallowing  the  consequences  and  warding  off 
criticism.  Do  you  wish  to  be  a  life-long  martyr  to  free  love, 
like  Cornelia?" 

"I've  never  posed  as  a  martyr  to  anything  —  not  even 
to  drink,"  said  Janet,  recovering  her  good  humor. 

"Then  why  become  one?  Martyrdom  is  all  very  well 
for  fanatics  like  your  mother  who  enjoy  it,  or  for  idlers 
like  Cornelia  who  have  nothing  better  to  do.  But  you  are 
neither  a  fanatic  nor  an  idler;  you  are  a  worker." 

"But  when  one  believes  that  an  institution  has  served 
its  turn,  isn't  it  one's  duty  to  destroy  it?" 

"Institutions  are  never  destroyed.  They  are  sometimes 
transformed,  as  tadpoles  are  into  frogs." 

"Are  you  sure?  Cornelia  says  that  every  free  union  is 
a  mine  exploded  beneath  marriage.  I  think  she's  right." 

"A  mine!  Better  call  it  a  squib,  Janet.  And  all  the 
trouble  you  invite  will  be  like  laying  a  long  and  elaborate 
fuse  to  ignite  the  squib." 

"Oh,  you  have  no  ideals  left!"  she  cried,  revolted  at  this 
demolition  of  her  romantic  conceptions. 


234  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"I  have  a  little  common  sense  left,"  he  answered.  "We 
can't  escape  the  customs  or  the  institutions  of  our  time, 
however  much  we  may  disbelieve  in  them.  Flying  in  the 
face  of  a  decadent  institution  does  not  destroy  it.  It  only 
gives  it  a  new  lease  of  life  by  putting  the  props  of  public 
sympathy  and  traditional  morality  at  the  disposal  of  its 
defenders.  Look  at  the  case  of  George  Eliot.  Did  her 
entirely  justifiable  free  union  help  the  cause  of  marriage 
reform?  No.  It  actually  turned  her  into  a  defender  of  the 
very  institution  she  had  set  out  to  challenge." 

"What  a  very  wise  young  man,  this  wise  young  man 
must  be,"  she  said,  parodying  a  line  of  Gilbert's. 

"No  side-tracking!  Promise  me  you'll  turn  the  matter 
over  in  your  mind." 

"In  my  mind?  Yes.  But  what  about  my  heart?"  she 
said.  And  with  dancing  eyes  she  sang: 

"  'Oh,  the  heart  is  a  free  and  a  fetterless  thing, 
A  wave  of  the  ocean,  a  bird  on  the  wing.' " 

Her  voice  turned  his  blood  to  paradisaical  currents. 

"If  you  sing  that  again,  I  shall  kiss  you  on  the  spot, 
in  public  or  out  of  it,"  said  the  tormented  young  man. 

"Why,  Robert,  what  abysses  of  passion  lurk  hidden  in 
you!"  she  exclaimed  mockingly.  "I  believe  you  said  you'd 
always  treat  me  just  like  a  man.  Do  you  talk  like  this  to 
your  male  chums?"  Then  demurely:  "We'd  better  go 
home  at  once." 

On  the  way  home,  she  resumed  the  discussion.  In  a 
more  earnest  tone  than  before,  she  thanked  him  for  taking 
so  much  trouble  over  her  and  promised  to  think  about  his 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  235 

point  of  view  very  carefully.  She  insisted,  however,  that 
his  reasoning  had  not  convinced  her.  She  and  Claude 
appeared  very  well  suited  to  each  other  now,  but  who  could 
tell  what  changes  a  few  years  might  not  bring  forth? 

"True,"  said  Robert.  "But  the  future  is  dark  to  us  in 
other  matters  besides  marriage.  As  things  stand  now, 
Claude  couldn't  do  better,  and  you  might  do  worse.  And 
if  the  very  worst  happened,  you  could  get  a  divorce." 

She  replied  by  reminding  him  that  she  and  Claude  were 
not  the  kind  of  people  who  lightly  repudiated  their  ties  or 
the  responsibilities  that  grew  out  of  them.  Consequently, 
once  married,  they  would  probably  remain  so  for  life.  In 
any  event,  if  she  changed  her  mind,  it  would  be  infinitely 
simpler  to  do  so  under  the  other  plan. 

"Say  I  grew  tired  of  Claude,  for  instance,  and  quite 
suddenly  wanted  you,"  she  said  with  a  mischievous  look. 

"Well,  it  couldn't  be  done,"  said  Robert,  decisively,  her 
complacent  assumption  jarring  his  pride. 

"Oh,  couldn't  it?"    She  flashed  him  a  challenging  glance. 

"Not  in  my  case,"  he  returned,  in  clipped  tones.  "Free 
love  is  the  most  expensive  luxury  in  the  world.  Only  the 
very  rich  or  the  unambitious  can  pay  for  it.  As  for  me,  I 
never  can  have  anything  to  do  either  with  free  love  or 
with  a  woman  who  has  had  a  free  lover.  It  would  ruin 
all  my  plans." 

Janet  replied  with  the  faintest  shrug,  whereat  all  his  self- 
assertion  promptly  went  bang.  Neither  yielded  a  point; 
but  they  divined  each  other's  feelings  and,  as  they  walked 
on,  steered  the  conversation  into  lighter  channels  until  they 
got  back  to  the  Lorillard  tenements. 

Standing  in  the  dark  hallway  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 


236  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Janet  told  him  with  a  touch  of  impishness  that  his  logic 
had  been  irresistible. 

"Has  it?    It  hasn't  touched  your  heart,"  he  said,  some- 
what dolefully. 

"Ah,  well,  the  heart  is  a  free  and  a  fetterless  thing — " 

As  Janet  darted  up  the  stairs,  the  door  of  an  apartment 

opened  overhead,  and  she  fancied  she  heard  Claude's  voice. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 


On  her  own  floor,  she  halted  and,  with  Robert's  kiss 
still  burning  on  her  lips,  waited  until  he  had  turned  into 
Kelly's  flat.  Then  she  opened  the  door  of  Number  Fifteen. 

Sure  enough,  Claude  was  there,  full  of  resentment  at 
her  absence  on  a  jaunt  with  Robert.  She  thanked  her 
stars  that  Robert's  visible  presence  could  not  fan  the  flame. 
Even  so,  Claude  acted  badly  enough.  He  was  in  a  vertigo 
of  jealousy,  and  at  small  pains  to  hide  the  fact. 

At  first,  Janet  tried  to  carry  the  matter  off  lightly,  and 
strove  to  mollify  him  by  saying  that  Robert  had  asked  her 
to  consider  a  very  serious  problem.  She  was  a  little  con- 
science-stricken over  this  fib,  but  believed  it  the  best  thing 
to  say.  She  pointed  out  that  while  it  was  with  Robert 
that  she  worked,  it  was  with  Claude,  after  all,  that  she 
played. 

At  this  Cornelia  executed  an  unnecessarily  tuneful  laugh. 

"There's  nothing  like  a  man's  problem  for  disarranging 
a  girl's  hair,"  she  observed,  dropping  the  inevitable  dress 
she  was  busy  with.  "Araminta,  your  hat's  a  sight!  Do 
look  at  yourself  in  the  glass." 

Naturally,  Claude  was  more  furious  than  ever.  He 
sulked  in  silence  whilst  rebuffing  the  advances  that  Janet 
made.  Finally,  maddened  by  Cornelia's  pin-prick  innuen- 
does, he  strode  out,  flashing  a  terrible  look  at  Janet  as  he 
did  so. 


238  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

II 

When  will  the  play  of  Othello  be  absolutely  unintelli- 
gible? Perhaps  five  hundred  years  from  now  or,  let  us 
hope,  sooner.  Surely,  at  some  distant  date,  the  private 
ownership  of  a  woman  by  a  man  or  of  a  man  by  a  woman 
will  seem  as  barbarous  as  the  rings  our  ancestors  stuck 
through  their  noses  or  as  unfashionable  as  the  three  hun- 
dred concubines  of  Solomon.  And  the  jealous  passions 
arising  from  this  ownership  will  be  classed  with  rage,  hys- 
teria and  other  forms  of  emotional  disease  or  pathological 
bad  manners. 

Indeed,  do  not  the  best  people  already  look  upon  a  pro- 
nounced fit  of  jealousy  as  an  exhibition  of  arrested  devel- 
opment or  mental  inferiority?  If  the  jealous  man  is  not 
destroyed,  root  and  branch,  by  the  refuse-reduction  plant 
of  ridicule,  he  will  be  rendered  obsolete  and  perhaps  extinct 
by  the  spread  of  the  conviction  that,  after  a  human  being 
has  discharged  his  obligations  to  himself  and  his  obligations 
to  the  community,  he  owes  no  other  personal  allegiance 
whatever. 

Herself  singularly  free  from  jealousy,  Janet  was  in 
direct  touch  with  three  persons  whom  the  malady  afflicted 
sorely.  Besides  the  case  of  Claude,  she  had  on  her  hands 
the  case  of  Mrs.  Howard  Madison  Grey  in  business,  and 
the  case  of  Cornelia  at  home. 

Cornelia,  who  was  no  believer  in  keeping  her  emotions 
hermetically  sealed,  made  her  frame  of  mind  patent  to 
Janet  on  an  unforgetable  occasion.  It  was  not  the  first, 
nor  was  it  to  be  the  last,  of  a  series  of  blows,  which  were 
fast  converting  Janet  to  the  belief  that  her  own  opinion  of 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  239 

Cornelia  was  founded  on  an  illusion,  whilst  Robert's  opin- 
ion was  the  correct  one. 

For  some  time  past  it  had  been  Harry  Kelly's  practice 
to  come  into  Number  Fifteen  before  breakfast  and  put  the 
two  girls  "through  their  paces,"  as  he  called  the  light  drill 
he  prescribed  for  them.  Always  on  the  lookout  for  some 
new  outlet  for  his  tremendous  supply  of  energy,  the  physi- 
cal culture  expert  had  hit  on  the  scheme  of  improving  Cor- 
nelia's bad  health  by  reforming  her  bodily  habits.  Cornelia, 
who  considered  early  rising  bad  form  and  breathing  exer- 
cises a  superstition,  was  for  a  prompt  veto  of  the  scheme, 
but  Janet's  cordial  support  of  it  saved  the  day. 

So,  early  in  the  morning  of  the  day  after  Claude's  wrath- 
ful departure,  Kelly,  in  gymnasium  garb,  made  his  entrance 
as  usual.  The  athlete  was  not  a  man  of  many  words. 
Words,  after  all,  were  not  needed  in  his  case,  since,  as  he 
strode  along  with  the  nervous  muscularity  of  a  Rodin 
statue,  his  lithe,  powerful  body  proclaimed  his  mission  to 
all  the  world. 

"Wake  up,  girls,"  he  called  out,  "and  fill  your  bellies 
with  the  good  south  wind." 

The  unvarnished  word  always  moved  Cornelia  to  a  pro- 
testing shriek  and  a  well-trilled  "How  do  you  do!"  Kelly 
enjoyed  both  immensely. 

After  throwing  the  windows  in  the  sitting  room  wide 
open,  he  paced  the  floor  like  a  panther  in  his  den.  Janet 
was  the  first  to  appear.  She  was  still  drowsy,  and  her  short 
dark  hair,  in  tight  somnolent  curls,  hung  down  her  back. 
She  wore  a  short-skirted  bathing  suit,  a  custom  Kelly  held 
in  high  regard  for  the  business  in  hand.  ^ 

As  she  toddled  sleepily  towards  the  athlete,  the  energy 


240  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

pent  up  in  his  frame  unbottled  itself  on  the  impulse  of  the 
moment.  Catching  her  at  the  waist,  he  lifted  her  high  up 
in  the  air  and  spun  her  around  three  times  as  if  she  were  a 
featherweight.  Then,  clasping  her  lightly  by  shoulder  and 
leg,  he  set  her  tenderly  down  again. 

"Do  it  again,  Hercules,  do!"  articulated  Cornelia,  coming 
in  just  at  the  close  of  this  maneuver,  whilst  Janet,  still 
laughing  and  protesting,  was  in  the  act  of  resuming  control 
of  her  well-shaped  limbs. 

But  as  there  was  that  in  Cornelia's  eye  which  belied 
her  command,  Kelly  was  careful  to  make  no  move  to 
execute  it. 

Cornelia's  golden  hair  was  done  up  on  her  head  in  a 
makeshift  coil,  she  herself  being  enveloped  in  a  long  kimono 
that  trailed  to  the  ground.  Kelly  looked  at  this  garment 
without  ecstasy,  a  fact  that  did  not  escape  the  wearer's 
observation. 

"Hercules,"  she  commanded  peevishly,  "you  might  close 
this  window  near  me.  I've  got  a  very  bad  headache  from 
too  little  sleep.  Do  you  want  me  to  catch  my  death  of 
cold,  too?" 

He  complied  with  all  haste,  and  then  pitched  into  his 
calisthenics,  Janet  joining  him  with  gusto.  Cornelia  followed 
suit,  though  in  a  very  languid  spirit;  and  soon  she  stopped 
altogether,  on  the  pretext  of  unusual  weakness. 

Her  chilly  aloofness  cut  the  period  short.  It  was  now 
time  to  prepare  breakfast,  a  task  theoretically  shared  by 
all  four,  including  Robert,  who  was  unaccountably  late  this 
morning.  Habitually,  three  of  them  did  the  actual  work 
while  Cornelia  "directed,"  a  process  which,  she  firmly  be- 
lieved, enabled  the  others  to  save  time.  But,  as  Robert 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  241 

sardonically  put  it,  "Cornelia's  method  of  showing  us  a 
short  cut  is  to  send  us  round  Robin  Hood's  bam." 

It  was  Kelly's  special  business  to  convert  a  part  of  the 
kitchen  into  a  dining  room,  and  thereafter  to  make  the 
toast.  He  had  just  reached  this  stage,  when  Cornelia  took 
another  hand  in  the  proceedings. 

"Go  down  and  get  the  letters  for  me,  Hercules,"  she  said 
suddenly,  relieving  him  of  the  toaster. 

"Why,  what's  the  hurry?  Rob  always  gets  them  after 
breakfast." 

"Oh,  do  let  Harry  make  the  toast,"  said  Janet,  chiming 
in  with  him.  She,  too,  had  thought  of  the  letters,  and  was 
in  no  hurry  to  bid  the  devil  good  morning.  "Nobody  can 
eat  toast  the  way  you  make  it,  Cornelia.  And  Robert  is 
sure  to — " 

"No  doubt  Robert  will  do  exactly  as  you  tell  him,"  said 
Cornelia,  interrupting  her  sweetly.  "Please  let  Harry  do 
as  /  tell  him.  Hercules,  go  now,  please.  I  have  a  notion 
there'll  be  some  famous  news  for  me  this  morning." 

Kelly,  having  been  her  devoted  (and  despised)  slave 
since  the  day  he  ejected  Hutchins  Burley,  obeyed  submis- 
sively by  mere  force  of  habit.  He  ran  down  the  three  flights 
of  stairs  and  in  a  very  short  time  came  back  again  with  a 
single  letter. 

It  was  for  Janet  from  Claude,  and  sarcasm  was  its  pre- 
vailing tone. 

The  writer  began  by  deploring  his  fatuous  inability  to 
remain  away  from  her  side.  He  pointed  out  that,  as  his 
chance  visits  might  take  her  by  surprise  or  catch  her  off 
guard,  not  to  say  worry  her  into  thinking  of  promises  she 
had  no  mind  to  keep,  he  should  take  steps  to  rid  her  of  his 


242  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

manifestly  superfluous  attentions.  He  had  accordingly 
arranged  to  spend  some  time  with  his  friends  the  Arm- 
strongs, in  Huntington.  By  doing  so  he  should  at  least 
please  his  father,  which  was  better  than  nothing,  certainly 
better  than  not  pleasing  either  himself  or  her. 

In  short,  it  was  just  such  a  petulant  note  as  a  spoiled 
woman's  darling  like  Claude  might  be  expected  to  write. 
Having  always  received  complete  submission  from  women, 
he  regarded  the  least  opposition  to  his  self-indulgence  as 
outrageous  and  even  wicked  or  perhaps  blasphemous. 

The  depth  and  passion  of  Janet's  nature  were  not  easily 
stirred,  but  this  letter  startled  her  out  of  her  usual  light- 
heartedness.  She  sat  down  in  a  chair  by  the  window  and 
looked  out  fixedly,  in  an  effort  to  repress  her  feelings.  Kelly, 
sympathetic  and  bewildered,  gave  vent  to  sundry  heartening 
murmurs  and  exclamations;  and,  as  these  accomplished 
little,  he  moved  dishes  attractively  and  hopefully  around 
Janet's  empty  place. 

From  her  point  of  vantage  at  the  table,  Cornelia  surveyed 
her  handiwork  with  a  pious  simulation  of  sadness,  surveyed 
it,  and  found  that  it  was  not  so  bad. 

Janet  blue  and  still,  Kelly  heavily  anxious,  Cornelia 
sweetly  sanctimonious,  such  was  the  curious  tableau  that 
Robert  saw  when  he  came  in,  his  slender  frame  and  vigor- 
ous movements  forming  a  direct  contrast  to  the  static 
spectacle  before  him. 

"Now,  see  what  you've  done,  Cato!"  declaimed  Cornelia, 
in  one  of  those  complacent  greetings  which  only  she  could 
make  sublime. 

She  fluttered  Claude's  note  aloft  and  called  out  the 
sender's  name  for  Robert's  information. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  243 

Ignoring  her,  but  grasping  the  import  of  the  scene, 
Robert  went  over  to  Janet's  side  and  asked  her  in  all  sim- 
plicity whether  he  could  be  of  any  service  whatever. 

But  she,  to  hide  her  tears,  turned  decisively  away  from 
him.  Robert  gave  her  movement  a  totally  different  inter- 
pretation, drew  back,  and  walked  quickly  out  of  the  room. 

Ill 

The  alarums  and  excursions  for  which  Claude  and  Cor- 
nelia were  responsible  might  well  have  monopolized  Janet's 
mind.  But  her  thoughts  were  kept  in  flux  by  a  thunder- 
storm which  threatened  her  peace  from  another  quarter. 

The  new  cloud  on  her  horizon  came  from  no  less  a 
person  than  Mrs.  Howard  Madison  Grey,  the  wife  of  her 
employer. 

Mrs.  Grey  served  Janet  as  a  symbol,  a  symbol  opposed 
to  the  Outlaws.  The  Outlaws  were  a  convenient  symbol  of 
the  world  within  Kips  Bay.  Mrs.  Grey  was  an  equally  pat 
symbol  of  the  world  without. 

It  amused  Janet  to  study  her  own  reactions  to  these  two 
symbols  and  to  analyze  her  experiences  with  the  moral 
codes  symbolized. 

According  to  one  of  the  primary  conventions  of  the  Out- 
laws, sex  was  anybody's  to  have  and  nobody's  to  hold; 
there  was  no  recognized  private  property  in  sex.  In  Kips 
Bay,  Janet  had  acted  in  the  spirit  (though  not  in  the  letter) 
of  this  convention.  And  the  results  had  been  disastrous. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  the  world  beyond  the  model  tene- 
ments, the  right  of  private  property  in  sex  was  absolute. 
In  Mrs.  Grey's  world,  Janet  had  acted  in  the  spirit  and 


244  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

even  in  the  letter  of  this  convention.  And  again  the  results 
had  been  disastrous. 

The  second  disaster  materialized  slowly.  Its  point  of 
departure  was  the  visit  paid  by  an  ex-President  of  the 
United  States  to  a  performance  of  Mr.  Grey's  third  play, 
"The  Great  Reprieve." 

As  originally  written,  this  was  a  drama  in  which  a 
Vermont  Yankee  resigns  to  a  younger  brother  the  girl  he 
madly  loves,  after  which  lofty  sacrifice  he  starts  life  anew 
in  the  Klondike,  makes  a  fortune  there,  and  later  turns  up 
for  a  brief  visit  to  the  old  homestead.  To  his  dismay  he 
learns  that  the  girl  of  his  dreams  has  been  left  a  widow 
and  that,  with  poverty  and  distress  staring  her  in  the  face, 
she  has  no  choice  but  to  take  up  the  lot  of  an  actress  in  the 
great  Subway  Circuit.  Nothing  but  his  hand  in  marriage 
can  save  her  from  the  doom  in  store  for  her!  And  the 
curtain  falls  on  the  Great  Reprieve. 

The  play  was  a  triumph  of  mediocrity  in  conception,  con- 
struction, and  style;  yet  for  some  unaccountable  reason  it 
fell  flat.  The  producer  was  reluctant  to  accept  the  verdict 
of  the  playgoers  for  a  fact,  but  a  second  footing-up  of  the 
box-office  revenues  conquered  his  reluctance  completely. 

Half  a  dozen  play-surgeons — writers  of  Broadway  suc- 
cesses, high-priced,  fifth-rate  super-hacks,  before  whose 
names  the  public  prostrated  itself — were  hastily  called  into 
consultation  and  an  immediate  and  drastic  operation  was 
advised. 

No  time  was  wasted  in  thinking.  All  six  consultants  took 
a  hand,  so  did  the  producer,  so  did  the  favorite  chauffeur 
of  the  producer's  second  best  mistress.  Three  days  and 
three  nights  of  heroic  writing,  drinking,  and  rehearsing 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  245 

followed.  At  the  end  of  this  furious  interlude,  "The  Great 
Reprieve"  had  been  whipped,  or  as  the  favorite  chauffeur 
said,  "Goulasht"  into  shape. 

The  chief  character  in  the  revised  version  was  a  typical 
American  boy  of  fifteen  (erstwhile  the  heroine's  brother), 
and  upon  his  pranks,  antics,  impudence,  and  callowness,  the 
play  now  pivoted.  The  lad's  capacity  for  noisy  pertness 
and  imbecile  clownage  was  represented  as  inexhaustible,  yet 
even  so,  the  producer  expressed  a  fear  that  the  audience 
might  not  be  equal  to  the  intellectual  pressure  of  the 
dialogue.  Relaxing  incidents  were  introduced — a  woman 
purring  over  a  poodle  dog,  a  chorus  girl  spouting  the  real 
American  language  invented  by  George  Ade,  a  squawking 
parrot,  and  a  Southern  mammy  (out  of  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin")  worshipping  the  ground  the  leading  juvenile  treads 
on. 

These  features  were  warranted  to  give  the  play  its 
"universal  appeal"! 

Dramatic  action  there  was  none.  Why  cast  pearls? 
After  all,  there  was  plenty  of  movement,  plenty  of  "pep" 
and  "kick"  as  the  producer  said.  All  the  characters  made 
their  entrances  and  exits  with  frenzied  vehemence  and, 
whilst  on  the  stage,  jerked  arms  and  body  and  legs  cease- 
lessly to  and  fro,  as  if  in  the  last  throes  of  St.  Vitus'  Dance. 
The  audience  would  get  its  money's  worth  of  "speed" — 
so  much  was  provided  for,  if  nothing  else  was.  The  dialogue 
was  spoken  with  a  short,  sharp,  pop-gun  explosiveness, 
except  in  the  maudlin  sentimental  scenes  in  which  it  was 
drawled  out  into  one  world-without-end  whine.  Apart  from 
these  details,  nothing  in  particular  was  to  happen  in  the 
play;  for  nothing  in  particular  mattered.  However,  a 


246          .  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

squealing  child  was  kept  in  reserve,  ready  to  be  trotted  out 
for  "sure-fire"  applause,  if  the  "action"  should  chance  to 
flag. 

In  its  renovated  form,  Mr.  Grey  hardly  recognized  "The 
Great  Reprieve."  It  seemed  to  him  that  his  comedy  had 
become  an  exact  replica  of  each  of  the  other  ten  American 
comedies  then  playing  in  Times  Square.  This,  though  Mr. 
Grey  was  no  intellectual  giant,  made  a  difference  to  his 
artist's  pride.  It  made  no  difference  to  the  Broadway 
theatregoers.  They  fairly  devoured  the  play.  They 
swallowed  all  the  old  wheezes  and  all  the  old  slush  and  all 
the  George  Ade  lingo  and  all  the  Southern  mammy  stuff. 
They  swallowed  it  all  without  winking.  Despite  the  fears 
of  the  producer,  they  proved  themselves  to  be  almost  fully 
up  to  the  intellectual  level  of  the  fifteen-year-old  leading 
juvenile.  They  greeted  his  every  act  of  clownage  and  horse- 
play with  salvos  of  applause.  They  laughed  themselves  sick 
over  him.  And  when  the  poodle  dog  and  the  baby  appeared, 
the  applause  brought  down  the  rafters. 

To  put  it  mildly,  Mr.  Howard  Madison  Grey  was 
stupefied.  However,  the  success  of  "The  Great  Reprieve" 
became  the  talk  of  the  town.  An  ex-President  of  the  United 
States  went  to  see  it  and  drenched  his  box  with  the  tears  of 
hilarity  and  contentment.  Next  day,  he  described  the  play 
as  "a  clean,  wholesome  play  of  American  life,  manners  and 
thought! — every  one  hundred  per  cent  American  will  be 
satisfied  with  it." 

This  description  was  henceforth  underscored  in  every 
advertisement  of  "The  Great  Reprieve."  Seats  were  sold  ten 
weeks  in  advance.  The  producer  and  his  crew  of  play- 
salvagers  added  another  feather  to  their  caps.  And  Mrs. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  247 

Howard  Madison  Grey  began  to  look  for  an  apartment  on 
upper  Park  Avenue. 

IV 

The  ensuing  increase  in  the  volume  of  engagements  and 
correspondence  threw  Janet  together  with  Mr.  Grey  for 
uninterrupted  stretches,  oftener  than  Mrs.  Grey  thought 
wise. 

Before  long,  the  author's  wife  noted  significant  alterations 
in  her  husband's  behavior. 

Mrs.  Howard  Madison  Grey  was  nothing  if  not  scientific. 
She  believed  religiously  in  the  scientific  method  and  applied 
it  to  all  her  activities,  even  to  her  excursions  in  jealousy.  As 
she  hadn't  read  "Science  and  Power"  by  Fitzfield  Tyler,  the 
efficiency  engineer,  for  nothing,  she  understood  thoroughly 
that  the  proper  method  for  scientific  research  proceeds  by 
three  stages,  namely: 

One:  Observing  facts,  without  any  preconceived  notion. 

Two:  Imagining  a  general  explanation  or  hypothesis  that 
establishes  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  between  two 
groups  of  facts. 

Three:  Verifying  this  hypothesis,  a  process  of  determin- 
ing by  means  of  personally  conducted  observations,  whether 
the  hypothesis  fits  the  facts  it  proposes  to  explain. 

Observing,  imagining,  verifying  —  these  were  the  three 
stages  the  trained  investigator  had  to  grasp.  And  Mrs. 
Howard  Madison  Grey  grasped  them  with  considerable 
kinetic  energy. 

In  the  first  place,  observation  of  the  library  during  work 
time  ceased  to  reveal  Mr.  Grey  in  the  careless  act  of  dictat- 
ing in  shirt  sleeves  and  suspenders  or  of  puffing  cigarette 
smoke  unconcernedly  towards  Janet's  innocent  lungs. 


248  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Instead,  it  disclosed  him  in  a  handsome  velvet  smoking 
jacket  and  betrayed  the  astonishing  fact  that  from  the  very 
moment  the  smoking  jacket  was  exhibited  the  smoking 
habit  was  suppressed.  Clearly,  Mr.  Grey's  behavior  in  the 
past  and  his  behavior  in  the  present  showed  the  existence 
of  two  utterly  different  groups  of  facts. 

To  imagine  a  general  explanation  which  should  connect 
these  two  groups  of  facts  was  the  second  and  by  long  odds 
the  easiest  step.  Mrs.  Howard  Madison  Grey  formulated 
the  hypothesis  that  some  perverse  piece  of  femininity  had 
lost  her  head  over  Mr.  Grey's  resplendent  fame  and  fortune, 
and  had  set  out  to  tempt  him  into  the  primrose  path  of 
dalliance. 

The  third  step  was  to  verify  this  hypothesis  with  a  series 
of  experiments. 

Mrs.  Grey  began  by  putting  Janet  through  a  systematic 
cross-examination.  Didn't  she  think  men  looked  revolting 
in  shirt  sleeves  and  suspenders?  Quite  so.  Frankly, 
hadn't  she  simply  longed  to  know  a  great  literary  genius 
intimately?  Naturally!  And  what  might  be  her  views  on 
the  subject  of  nicotine?  She  thought  smoking  a  disgusting 
habit?  Ah,  well! 

These  answers  were  supplemented  by  scraps  of  informa- 
tion obtained,  it  must  be  confessed,  by  experiments  that 
might  have  daunted  any  but  a  most  dispassionate  investi- 
gator. Disregarding  ethics,  it  is  an  open  question  whether 
a  personally  conducted  observation  is  better  served  by 
studying  truth  face  to  face  or  by  studying  her  through  a 
keyhole.  Mrs.  Grey's  contribution  to  the  answer  was  to 
adopt  the  latter  plan  on  the  principle  that  all  is  fair  in  love 
and  science. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  249 

She  ratified  the  somewhat  precarious  keyhole  method  by 
the  surer  method  of  sudden  sallies  into  the  library.  She 
heard  Mr.  Grey  addressing  his  secretary  in  musically 
resonant  tones,  and  saw  him  showing  undue  solicitude  for 
her  comfort.  Nay  more,  she  surprised  them  in  animated, 
unworkmanlike  conversations.  True,  she  did  not  get  the 
precise  drift  of  these  talks,  but  she  was  morally  certain  that 
the  talkers  were  discussing  six  of  the  deadly  sins  and  wish- 
ing the  seventh.  Though  further  proof  was  scarcely  needed, 
she  found  the  straw  that  topped  the  climax.  Mr.  Grey 
offered  to  double  Janet's  salary  without  request.  The  con- 
clusion forced  itself  on  Mrs.  Grey  that  her  hypothesis  was 
incontestably  established.  It  brought  light  out  of  darkness 
and  order  out  of  chaos,  besides  fitting  all  the  facts  it  pro- 
posed to  explain. 

She  lost  no  time  in  acting  on  the  verified  conclusion. 

One  Monday  morning  before  Howard  Madison  Grey 
returned  from  a  week-end  on  the  New  Jersey  coast,  she 
intercepted  Janet. 

"The  new  play,"  she  said  accusingly,  "isn't  progressing 
very  fast." 

"No,"  admitted  Janet,  "it  isn't.  So  many  topical  matters 
have  had  to  be  disposed  of  lately  that  the  final  copy  of  the 
play  has  been  held  back." 

Janet  could  scarcely  dwell  on  her  employer's  growing 
penchant  for  conversation  with  her  when  his  wife  was  pre- 
sumed to  be  securely  occupied. 

"Mr.  Grey,"  said  his  wife,  half  reflectively,  "Mr.  Grey 
has  the  creative  temperament." 

She  frequently  aired  this  phrase;  it  had,  she  believed, 
the  ring  and  tang  of  distinction.  Privately,  she  thought 


250  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

that  the  artistic  temperament  incapacitated  a  man  from  the 
sane  discharge  of  his  most  elementary  duties. 

"The  creative  temperament,"  she  went  on,  "is  too  fine  to 
cope  with  the  details  of  business." 

She  gave  Janet  to  understand  that  it  was  imperative  that 
the  success  of  "The  Great  Reprieve"  should  be  followed  up 
without  delay. 

"Mr.  Sarsfield,  the  manager,"  continued  Mrs.  Grey,  "has 
just  telephoned  anxiously  for  the  next  manuscript." 

"Mr.  Grey  is  still  working  on  the  revision  of  the  third 
act,"  said  Janet.  "As  soon  as  he  finishes  it,  I  shall  rush  the 
whole  play  through.  Of  course,  I  can  type  the  first  two 
acts  at  once." 

"Yes,  do.  But  can  you  work  uninterruptedly  here?  Per- 
haps you  could  finish  it  faster  at  home — instead  of  coming 
here?" 

Janet  jumped  at  the  chance.  "Certainly,"  she  said,  "I 
can  finish  it  at  home  in  half  the  time." 

Mrs.  Grey  was  taken  aback.  On  second  thoughts,  she 
put  Janet's  eagerness  down  to  the  new  feminist  strategy. 

"There's  the  risk,"  she  said,  uneasily  picturing  the 
precious  pages  at  the  mercy  of  the  New  York  transit 
services. 

Anxious  to  escape  the  assiduities  of  the  wife,  if  not  of  the 
husband,  Janet  gave  reckless  assurances  of  her  devotion  to 
the  manuscript. 

Mrs.  Grey  finally  assented  to  the  arrangement.  Janet 
was  to  take  the  manuscript  in  sections  and,  if  the  scheme 
worked  well,  she  might  do  all  future  typewriting  for  the 
playwright  in  the  same  way.  She  need  come  to  the  Greys' 
house  only  for  the  dictation. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  251 

"I  hope  Mr.  Grey  will  be  satisfied,"  Janet  could  not  help 
saying,  once  the  bundle  of  papers  was  safely  tucked  under 
her  arm. 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Mrs.  Grey  meditatively.  "But  who  can 
fathom  the  ways  of  the  creative  temperament — ?" 

She  left  an  eloquent  hiatus. 

From  which  Janet  inferred  that  the  shortest  way  with 
that  particular  temperament  was  to  let  the  explanation 
follow  the  act. 


This  bout  with  the  green-eyed  monster  had  taken  place 
shortly  before  Claude's  petulant  flight  to  the  Armstrong 
estate  in  Huntington.  To  Janet  the  whole  affair  was  very 
ludicrous,  and  none  the  less  so  in  that  she  had  given  Mrs. 
Grey  little  cause  for  anxiety. 

Not  for  a  moment  had  the  newspaper  acclaim  of  Howard 
Madison  Grey  imposed  upon  her.  Having  measured  her 
own  wits  with  the  playwright's,  she  had  formed  an  estimate 
of  his  talents  which  caused  her  to  reject  with  contempt  the 
fantastic  eulogies  of  him  in  the  press.  She  continued  to 
see  in  Mr.  Grey  what  she  had  always  seen,  namely,  a 
decidedly  middle-aged  man  with  a  bald  head  and  a  graceless 
figure,  a  man  whose  amorous  pleasantries  and  elderly  senti- 
mentalism  inspired  her  with  the  same  distaste  as  the  odor  of 
stale  tobacco  smoke  with  which  his  person  seemed  to  reek. 

She  knew  quite  well  that  she  had  captured  his  emotions 
and  his  illusions,  but  as  she  had  found  no  difficulty  in 
keeping  his  advances  within  bounds  she  had  seen  no  reason 
for  giving  the  matter  serious  thought. 

On  the  day  of  Mrs.  Grey's  interference,  Janet  returned 


252  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

to  Kips  Bay  in  high  feather.  This  had  mystified  Cornelia, 
who  could  not  see  in  her  friend's  recital  of  events  any  great 
cause  for  congratulation.  She  gloomily  predicted  that  Janet 
would  soon  lose  her  position  altogether.  Janet  said  she 
didn't  care.  A  change  was  the  only  stimulant  she  ever  took 
or  needed.  And  any  change,  even  a  change  for  the  worse, 
would  serve  the  purpose  admirably. 

Cornelia  wondered  what  was  back  of  all  this  optimism 
until  Janet  pointed  out  that,  with  her  new  program  of  work, 
she  could  repay  Robert  for  his  many  services  to  her.  The 
firm  of  Barr  &  Lloyd  could  now  carry  on  business  in  the 
mornings  as  well  as  in  the  afternoons,  Robert  sharing  with 
her  the  work  that  came  in  from  the  Greys  and  perhaps  from 
other  authors,  just  as  she  had  shared  with  him  the  work 
that  came  in  from  the  League  of  Guildsmen.  This  state- 
ment was  received  in  silence  by  Cornelia,  who  drew  her  own 
conclusions  and  communicated  them  only  to  Harry  Kelly. 

Janet's  offer  to  pool  her  secretarial  jobs  from  all  sources 
with  her  typewriting  for  the  League  had  been  very  welcome 
to  Robert.  His  funds  were  running  uncomfortably  low  just 
then.  The  reason  was  that  the  League  was  not  a  paying 
concern.  The  economic  changes  advocated  by  the  Guilds- 
men  were  so  drastic  in  character  and  called  for  so  much 
discipline  and  far-sighted  cooperation  on  the  part  of  the 
working  classes  that  the  very  people  whom  they  were 
intended  to  benefit  fought  shy  of  them.  Leaders  of  labor 
received  the  Guild  proposals  coldly,  and  the  rank  and  file 
gave  them  little  sympathy  and  less  support. 

For  several  mornings  Robert  and  Janet  pitched  in  with 
a  will  on  the  typewriting  of  Mr.  Grey's  manuscripts.  In  the 
afternoons  they  had  continued  the  League  work.  Their 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  253 

comradeship  was  a  happy  and  an  intimate  one,  how  happy 
and  how  intimate  Janet  did  not  fully  realize  until  long 
after  it  was  over.  Perhaps  the  most  delightful  periods 
were  those  in  which  they  proofread  the  manuscripts  they 
had  finished.  They  took  turns  reading  aloud,  and  endless 
was  the  fun  they  extracted  from  the  lines  of  Mr.  Grey's 
new  play.  More  delightful  still  were  excursions  into  the 
fields  of  literature  and  economics,  the  play  or  some  Guild 
pamphlet  furnishing  the  starting  point. 

Thus  the  partnership  of  Barr  &  Lloyd  had  gone  on 
swimmingly  for  two  weeks,  until  the  afternoon  on  the  recre- 
ation pier,  the  memorable  afternoon  that  had  begun  with  the 
long  talk  about  free  love,  and  had  ended  in  the  model 
tenement  with  Robert's  kiss  and  Claude's  sulky  fit  of 
jealousy. 

VI 

On  the  morning  after  this  fateful  day,  Janet  had  to  go 
to  the  Howard  Madison  Greys'  to  return  some  finished 
manuscripts. 

She  had  gone  there  for  this  purpose  some  two  or  three 
times  a  week,  since  the  last  arrangement  with  Mr.  Grey. 
On  these  occasions,  the  playwright  himself  met  her.  And 
usually  he  spun  out  the  interview  as  long  as  possible,  due 
regard  being  had  to  the  prudent  Mrs.  Grey  who,  hovering 
watchfully  in  the  background,  reminded  Janet  of  a  quiet 
but  overcautious  museum  attendant. 

Mrs.  Grey  would  frequently  contrive  to  come  into  the 
room  for  the  undisguised  purpose  of  glancing  at  or  even 
criticizing  Janet's  typewriting.  The  expectation  of  such  a 


254  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

visit  made  Janet,  on  this  particular  day,  decidedly  nervous. 
For,  what  with  her  distraction  by  Claude's  anger,  and  a 
sudden  crotchiness  that  had  overtaken  the  typewriter,  her 
papers  bore  the  glaring  evidence  of  innumerable  corrections 
and  erasures. 

However,  Mrs.  Grey  seemed  for  once  to  be  off  duty.  So 
at  least  Janet  concluded  from  the  fact  that  the  author 
himself  received  her  with  much  less  than  his  customary 
constraint  and  far  more  than  his  ordinary  enthusiasm. 
And  not  only  was  he  in  the  best  of  spirits;  he  was  groomed 
to  perfection.  He  had  put  on  a  suit  cut  in  a  fashionable 
English  mode,  with  quaint  cuffs  on  the  sleeves  of  the  coat 
as  well  as  on  the  bottoms  of  the  trousers. 

These  and  other  details  of  sartorial  artistry  were  prob- 
ably lost  on  Janet,  but  she  was  sensible  enough  of  the  gen- 
eral effect  to  surmise  that  her  employer  had  dressed  himself 
to  conquer.  This  surmise  would  have  forced  itself  upon 
her  in  any  event,  for  Mr.  Grey  soon  launched  into  repeated 
hints  looking  to  an  assignation  with  her  outside  his  home, 
hints  that  presently  crystallized  into  a  direct  invitation  to 
a  dinner  at  Sherry's. 

According  to  the  principles  of  Kips  Bay — and  Janet  at 
this  time  subscribed  to  these  principles — there  was  abso- 
lutely no  reason  why  Mr.  Grey  should  not  invite  her  and 
absolutely  no  reason  why  she  should  not  accept.  But  the 
heart  has  a  reason  to  which  reason  must  bow.  Janet's 
heart  was  in  submission  to  but  one  law,  and  that  was  the 
law  of  her  integrity.  She  could  no  more  strike  up  a  friend- 
ship with  a  man  to  whom  she  was  not  naturally,  spontane- 
ously drawn  than  she  could  fly.  And  she  could  hardly 
pretend  to  be  drawn  to  Mr.  Grey.  No,  not  even  for  the 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  255 

pleasure  of  giving  the  suspicious  Mrs.  Grey  something  to  be 
suspicious  about. 

Besides,  the  man  was  too  cocksure.  He  appeared  to 
share  Mrs.  Grey's  conviction  that  the  slightest  nod  on  his 
part  would  incline  Janet  (or  any  other  woman)  to  follow 
him  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  This  was  amusing.  But  it 
was  also  irritating  to  one's  pride  of  sex. 

The  trouble  with  Mr.  Grey  was  that,  having  realized  the 
first  of  the  two  ambitions  which  governed  his  desires,  he 
felt  satisfied  he  was  about  to  realize  the  second.  As  an 
author,  he  had  conquered  the  public;  as  a  man,  he  now 
meant  to  conquer  women. 

To  Janet,  Mr.  Grey's  illusions  about  himself  were  as 
transparent  as  his  illusions  about  her.  It  was  plain  that 
he  took  with  the  utmost  seriousness  the  greatness  that 
had  recently  been  thrust  upon  him.  His  reasoning  was 
quite  simple.  If  success  in  pleasing  the  crowd  and  its 
leaders  did  not  imply  the  possession  of  superior  gifts  and 
of  a  masterly  technique  in  exploiting  those  gifts,  what  did 
it  imply? 

This  reasoning  struck  Janet  as  puerile.  Yet  Mr.  Grey 
could  hardly  be  expected  to  share  her  view  that  talent  and 
superb  execution  had  never  by  themselves  attracted  the 
plaudits  of  the  crowd,  or  that  the  only  man  who  could 
please  the  million  was  the  man  born  with  the  taste  of  the 
million.  Mr.  Grey  had  been  lucky  enough  to  inherit  this 
taste.  Why  demand  that  he  look  a  gift  horse  in  the  mouth? 

But  the  judgment  of  youth  is  direct  and  pitiless!  It 
seemed  nothing  less  than  ridiculous  to  Janet  that  Mr.  Grey 
should  seriously  pose  as  a  fount  of  the  divine  fire,  and 
calmly  invite  her  to  become  a  ministering  angel  to  the 


256  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

sacred  fount.  What  was  still  more  ridiculous  was  that  he 
disguised  his  offer  in  weird,  roundabout  phrases  calculated 
to  enable  her  to  "save  her  face." 

He  was  still  confidently  urging  the  project,  when  Mrs. 
Grey  swept  in  and  fell  upon  them  like  a  moral  land- 
slide. 

Mrs.  Grey  did  not  stop  to  account  for  her  unexpected 
return,  to  disclose  how  long  she  had  been  eavesdropping,  or 
to  listen  to  Mr.  Grey's  stumbling  and  embarrassed  explana- 
tions. Her  belligerent  manner  left  no  doubt  that  she  put 
the  very  worst  construction  on  what  she  had  heard.  Ignoring 
Janet  altogether,  she  opened  her  batteries  full  on  her 
husband  and  discharged  a  broadside  of  questions,  short, 
sharp  and  desolating. 

Her  questions  were  entirely  rhetorical. 

Was  this  the  loyalty  he  had  sworn  to  her,  when  she 
picked  him  out  of  the  gutter  of  obscurity  and  married  him? 
Had  she  not,  all  along,  suspected  that  he  was  plotting  an 
affair  with  this  girl?  No  doubt  the  girl  had  been  setting 
her  cap  at  him,  but  was  that  a  legitimate  excuse  for  incon- 
stancy? At  his  age,  he  ought  to  be  beyond  a  desire  to 
sow  wild  oats.  Didn't  he  know  that  a  mature  man  sowing 
his  wild  oats  presented  as  idiotic  a  spectacle  as  if  he  were 
sucking  his  thumb?  She  didn't  know  or  care  what  his 
family  would  think,  but  was  he  proposing  to  besmirch  the 
unstained  record  of  her  family  with  a  divorce  scandal? 
And  so  on — 

Janet  listened  in  icy  humiliation  whilst  the  storm  broke 
over  and  around  her.  She  expected  every  moment  to  be 
caught  up  in  it,  whirled  into  its  vortex,  and  destroyed. 

What  actually  happened  was  that  Mr.  Grey  played  a 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  257 

ghastly  imitation  of  his  masterful  hero  in  "The  Klondike 
Mail,"  until  his  lady,  infuriated  by  even  this  shadow  of 
defiance,  reached  a  degree  of  tension  that  would  have  burst 
a  twelve-inch  gun.  Death  and  destruction  were  almost 
afoot  when  she  spied  the  typewritten  papers  which  Janet 
had  just  returned.  She  pounced  upon  these  papers  and 
violently  projected  them  to  a  point  within  three  inches 
of  her  spouse's  nose,  after  which  she  regaled  him  with  a 
description  of  the  flaws  in  the  typewriting  and  the  defi- 
ciencies in  the  typist. 

This  description  was  pithy,  elaborate,  exhaustive,  but  it 
was  not  exactly  verified. 

Followed  an  effective  oratorical  pause.  And  then  Mrs. 
Grey  begged  to  be  informed  whether  the  quality  of  the 
work  was  not  ample  evidence  that  the  worker  came  for  no 
good  and  sufficient  business  reasons.  No  one  venturing  to 
reply,  she  hurled  the  manuscripts  at  the  head  of  Mr.  Grey's 
rapidly  retreating  form  and,  as  her  aim  was  marred  by  a 
trifling  miscalculation,  she  picked  up  another  document  and 
took  a  shy  at  Janet.  While  Janet  was  warding  off  this 
missile,  the  playwright  made  good  his  escape. 

"Really,  Mrs.  Grey,"  said  Janet,  standing  her  ground 
boldly  as  her  indignation  got  the  better  of  her  fright,  "you 
are  behaving  worse  than  a  fishwife." 

Mrs.  Grey  sobered  down  with  incredible  suddenness. 

"My  poor  girl,"  she  said,  solicitously,  "did  I  hit  you?" 

"You  came  within  an  ace  of  knocking  out  one  of  my 
eyes!" 

"Just  so.  Within  an  ace.  That  was  my  intention,  pre- 
cisely. I  aimed  for  effect,  not  for  damage.  I  assure  you 
I'm  a  first-rate  shot." 


258  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Mrs.  Grey  had  now  composed  her  feelings  and  her  dress, 
both  of  which  had  been  considerably  ruffled. 

"A  husband  is  hard  to  get  nowadays,"  she  went  on, 
smiling,  "but  he  is  even  harder  to  keep.  When  a  charming 
girl  makes  this  comparative  difficulty  a  superlative  one, 
she  does  a  wife  grave  wrong.  Still,  under  the  circumstances, 
I  forgive  you." 

"You  mustn't  presume  too  much  on  my  wickedness,"  said 
Janet,  smiling  at  this  strange  turn  of  affairs.  "I'm  dis- 
gracefully inexperienced." 

"Inexperienced!  Ah,  well,  men  have  an  amazing  weak- 
ness for  some  kinds  of  inexperience  —  in  a  girl.  In  a  wife 
they're  not  so  keen  on  it.  My  dear,  if  unmarried  girls 
would  only  put  themselves  in  a  wife's  place,  what  a  lot  of 
trouble  they'd  save — for  us  now  and  for  themselves  later  on. 
But  of  course,  they  can't  do  it.  They  think  marriage  is 
a  picnic  on  a  motorcycle  with  the  bride  in  the  carriage 
attachment.  What  a  dream!  Marriage  is  more  like  a 
tennis  game  with  the  two  players  facing  each  other  across 
the  dividing  line  of  sex.  You'll  find  that  out  the  day 
after  the  wedding!  You'll  know  then  that  the  only  way  to 
manage  a  husband  is  to  discover  his  weakest  point  and 
keep  driving  at  that  until  the  game  and  the  set  are  in  your 
hands.  Mr.  Grey's  weakest  point  is  his  horror  of  facing 
facts.  He  dreads  a  fact  the  way  a  boy  dreads  soap.  I 
discovered  that  at  our  honeymoon  hotel  when  we  debated 
how  to  stop  the  waiter  from  serving  us  with  cold  soup. 
Rather  than  compel  the  waiter  to  change  it,  Mr.  Grey 
tried  to  prove  that  the  soup  was  really  quite  hot.  No,  I'm 
not  the  tartar  you  think  I  am.  I  don't  object  to  a  man 
having  his  fling  now  and  then,  provided  it's  a  short  fling. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  259 

But  I  can't  let  him  get  into  the  grip  of  a  girl  of  your  sort, 
the  permanent  sort.  That  might  introduce  fatal  complica- 
tions, and  I  don't  mean  to  take  any  chances." 

"Then  why  did  you  let  me  come  here  in  the  first  place?" 

"Because  you  took  me  in  completely,"  replied  this  aston- 
ishing woman.  "You  had  none  of  the  obvious  female 
ways.  You  were  almost  pathetically  businesslike  and 
you  seemed  to  be — well — no  beauty.  Excuse  me  for  being 
frank." 

"The  excuses  are  all  on  my  side,  I'm  sure,"  said  Janet, 
highly  amused. 

"Not  at  all,  my  dear.  I'm  convinced  I  was  quite  wrong. 
You  grow  on  one,  even  on  a  woman.  I  soon  found  out 
that  beneath  your  dovelike  innocence  there  was  a  ser- 
pentine wisdom.  It's  a  magic  combination.  No  man  can 
resist  it." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Grey.  This  flattery  is  more  than  I 
deserve,  but — " 

"It's  no  good  protesting.  There  is  a  devilish  fascination 
about  you.  If  I'm  beginning  to  feel  it  myself,  what  must 
poor  Mr.  Grey  feel?" 

And  with  a  gesture  which  betokened  that,  in  these 
matters,  feelings  transcended  verbal  arguments  and  oral 
contracts,  she  paid  Janet  what  was  owing  to  her  and  made 
it  clear  that  she  need  not  come  again. 

At  the  door,  she  wished  Janet  good  luck. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  "as  a  typist  you  cut  rather  a  poor 
figure.  But  that  combination  I  spoke  of — it's  worth  a 
fortune — " 

Janet  went  away  not  knowing  whether  to  laugh  or  to 
cry.  A  good  cry  would  not  have  come  amiss;  and  yet,  as 


260  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

she  counted  up  the  fortunes  of  the  last  two  days,  she 
could  not  help  observing  that  her  mishaps  had  trod  on  one 
another's  heels  in  a  procession  that  was  well-nigh  comic. 
Claude's  letter  and  flight,  Cornelia's  bad  temper,  her  own 
involuntary  rudeness  to  Robert,  the  crop  of  errors  in  the 
playwright's  manuscript,  Mrs.  Grey's  impertinences,  and 
the  crowning  loss  of  her  position — here  was  a  downpour  of 
calamities  amounting  to  a  regular  deluge! 

And  not  a  single  ray  of  sunshine  in  sight,  either. 

On  second  thoughts,  she  had  to  admit  that  this  state- 
ment was  not  strictly  true.  For  Robert  would  probably  be 
home,  and  what  an  immense  relief  it  would  be  to  tell  him 
all  that  had  happened  to  her!  At  the  same  time  she  would 
be  able  to  obliterate  the  effect  of  yesterday's  rudeness. 

For  she  guessed  that  Robert's  feelings  had  been  deeply 
hurt  by  her  gesture  of  withdrawal  from  him.  But  she  felt  no 
doubt  of  her  power  to  conciliate  him  or  to  conquer  his  just 
resentment.  In  fact,  she  had  so  little  doubt  of  this  power 
that,  the  nearer  home  she  got,  the  more  she  looked  forward 
to  the  prospect  of  exercising  it. 

Ah,  yes,  it  would  be  simple  and  sweet  to  make  up  with 
Robert,  and  they  should  spend  a  very  jolly  afternoon 
together,  working  over  sundry  papers  and  planning  new 
activities  for  the  firm  of  Barr  &  Lloyd. 

And  (such  is  the  peremptory,  indomitable  influence  of 
the  heart!),  her  spirits  rose  again.  In  the  full  flush  of 
agreeable  anticipation,  she  began  to  turn  the  day's  adven- 
tures over  in  her  mind.  As  she  did  so,  she  gave  them  a 
humorous  twist,  for  she  meant  to  relate  them  to  Robert 
entertainingly,  in  return  for  his  expected  concession  to  her. 


On  reaching  her  own  street,  Janet  had  to  plough  her 
way  to  the  Lorillard  tenements  through  shoals  of  children 
that  scampered  about  as  derelict  as  herself.  She  felt  the 
keenest  pity  for  these  little  tots  who  came  from  the  very 
immodel  tenements  not  far  away,  where  five  or  even  eight 
people  existed  in  a  single  room,  defying  the  decencies  of 
life  by  day  and  mocking  them  by  night  in  order  to  live  up 
to  "the  highest  standard  of  living"  in  the  world. 

She  did  not  expect  Robert  until  two  o'clock,  when  he 
regularly  returned  from  the  League  of  Guildsmen.  In  the 
interval  she  looked,  as  a  matter  of  course,  under  Cornelia's 
alarm  clock,  where  the  four  friends  were  in  the  habit  of 
putting  brief  communications  for  one  another.  She  found 
the  following  note  addressed  to  her  in  Robert's  painstaking 
hand: 

Dear  Janet: 

Forgive  me  for  not  being  on  hand  this  afternoon.  Dur- 
ing the  next  few  days,  and  perhaps  longer,  I  shall  be  in 
Pittsburgh.  For  some  time,  therefore,  the  whole  burden  of 
the  firm  of  Barr  &  Lloyd  will  have  to  rest  on  the 
shoulders  of  one  partner.  Lucky  that  this  partner  is  so 
thoroughly  staunch  and  dependable,  isn't  it? 

What  is  taking  me  out  of  town  is  the  strike  in  Pitts- 
burgh. Thousands  of  steel  workers  have  laid  down  their 
tools  in  protest  against  the  conditions  under  which  they  are 
obliged  to  work.  The  contest  between  these  men  and  their 


262  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

all-powerful  employers  is  horribly  uneven,  and  the  apathy 
of  the  general  public  towards  the  issues  at  stake  is  appall- 
ing. Naturally,  every  agency  that  is  pledged  to  the  suc- 
cess of  a  healthy  labor  movement  must  pitch  into  this 
prickly  business.  For  the  strikers  need  all  the  help  they 
can  get,  whether  of  a  material  or  a  moral  kind. 

It  is  on  the  moral  side  that  our  League  of  Guildsmen 
comes  in.  The  recent  war  has  filled  the  earth  with  inde- 
scribable bitternesses  and  resentments.  It  has  also  given 
sovereign  strength  to  the  idea  that  henceforth  the  control 
of  the  world's  affairs  must  be  taken  away  from  the  idlers 
and  profiteers  and  given  to  the  workers  and  producers.  At 
every  turn,  omens  of  a  vast  incalculable  change  force  them- 
selves upon  our  senses. 

Clearly,  those  who  don't  want  a  bloody  revolution  have 
got  to  work  tooth  and  nail  for  a  pacific  one.  Now  the 
Guildsmen,  being  advocates  of  a  change  that  shall  be  peace- 
ful though  drastic,  have  a  vital  interest  in  drumming  it  into 
people's  heads  that  violence  can  never  breed  anything  save 
violence  and  violence  again. 

You  see,  don't  you,  that  I  am  needed  there  far  more  than 
here?  Please  believe  that  I'm  sorry  in  the  last  degree  to 
upset  our  joint  business  plans  and  to  hold  up  "The  Klon- 
dike Mail"  on  the  typewriter  at  just  the  critical  moment 
when  Mr.  Grey's  double-dyed  desperadoes  are  holding  it  up 
in  the  middle  of  the  third  act.  It  makes  me  feel  like  an 
accessory  to  the  crime,  all  the  more  so  in  that  it  gives  you, 
at  the  secretarial  end,  the  task  of  foiling  one  more  villain. 

Arrangements  have  been  made  at  the  League  office  for  the 
delivery  to  you  of  another  batch  of  Mss.  Could  you  call  in 
there  tomorrow  afternoon? 

More  later,  as  soon  as  my  plans  are  surer. 

Ever  yours, 

Robert. 

P.S.  On  second  thoughts,  it  seems  a  shame  that  you 
should  be  saddled  with  a  partner  who  is  bound  to  be  more 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  263 

or  less  on  the  jump.  I  recall  the  plan  you  confided  to  me 
last  week,  the  plan  of  turning  Barr  &  Lloyd  into  a  real 
secretarial  business  on  an  extensive  scale.  With  this  on 
your  mind,  you  may  well  fear  that  my  haphazard  move- 
ments will  prove  ruinous  to  any  settled  policy.  If  so,  and 
whenever  you  can  find  a  more  stable  associate,  please  have 
no  compunction  about  making  a  change.  We  must  not  let 
sentiment  stand  hi  the  way  of  good  management. 

"He  can't  even  say  good-bye  without  delivering  a  lecture," 
said  Janet  bitterly. 

She  felt  aggrieved.  Just  when  she  needed  Robert  most, 
he  left  her  in  the  lurch.  True,  his  direct  connection  with 
the  labor  movement  made  his  departure  inevitable.  But 
did  he  have  to  rush  off  to  Pittsburgh  the  very  moment 
the  strike  broke  out?  She  supposed  his  haste  was  partly 
prompted  by  his  injured  feelings.  If  not,  why  had  he  so 
needlessly  offered  to  dissociate  himself  from  her,  why,  in- 
deed, had  he  written  such  an  entirely  cold,  unsympathetic 
letter? 

"Like  his  cold,  unsympathetic  views  on  love,"  she  said 
to  herself,  recalling  with  some  scorn  his  severe,  intolerant 
pronouncements  on  the  free  love  theme. 

She  reviewed  the  business-like  contents  of  the  letter  with 
a  growing  sense  of  desolation.  It  looked  as  though  she  were 
in  for  a  dismal  evening,  one  of  those  dismal  evenings  that 
are  enormously  good  for  us  afterwards,  because  at  the  time 
they  so  thoroughly  plough  up  our  deepest  feelings. 

II 

But  the  facts  of  the  present  were  too  disturbing  to 
permit  her  to  extract  much  consolation  from  a  philosophy 
of  the  future. 


264  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

For  Janet's  difficulties  were  by  no  means  entirely  senti- 
mental. 

Much  as  Claude's  anger  and  Robert's  coolness  tortured 
her  feelings,  it  was  the  destruction  of  her  plans  that  chiefly 
occupied  her  thoughts.  These  were  the  plans  that  Robert 
had  referred  to  in  his  letter. 

Ably  assisted  by  Cornelia,  whose  power  of  sketching  the 
most  imposing  schemes  quite  exhausted  her  capacity  for 
executing  even  the  humblest  ones,  Janet  had  mapped  out 
a  very  ambitious  career  for  herself.  Her  intention  was  to 
make  the  most  of  her  stenographic  foothold;  to  accumulate 
enough  resources  to  permit  a  spur,  so  to  speak,  to  be  run 
into  the  domain  of  the  law;  and  eventually  to  reach  a  point 
where  the  secretarial  specialty  and  its  legal  intertwinings 
should  be  united  in  one  occupation. 

It  was,  as  Cornelia  all  aglow  remarked,  a  time  when 
women  were  not  only  casting  down  the  barriers  raised  by 
men  around  the  old  professions,  but  were  actually  bestir- 
ring themselves  to  carve  out  brand-new  professions. 

What  Cornelia  put  into  enthusiasm,  Janet  proposed  to 
put  into  cold  deeds. 

As  a  first  step  in  this  direction,  she  resolved  that  the  firm 
of  Barr  &  Lloyd,  which  had  been  born  in  jest,  should 
be  reared  in  dead  earnest.  Her  work  for  Mr.  Grey,  a 
certain  amount  of  casual  work  which  she  was  getting  from 
friends  of  the  playwright,  and  such  odd  jobs  as  Robert 
brought  from  the  Guild  League  —  these  three  sources  were 
to  form  the  basis  of  a  secretarial  office  dealing  with  authors' 
manuscripts  in  relation  to  typing,  revision,  criticism,  and 
so  on. 

In  short,  Barr  &  Lloyd  (Barr  first,  because  Robert,  as 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  265 

an  advocate  of  the  absolute  equality  of  men  and  women, 
insisted  that  the  correct  order  of  precedence  was  a  strictly 
alphabetical  one)  —  Barr  &  Lloyd  were  to  be  manuscript 
specialists,  handling  every  conceivable  matter  linked  up 
with  the  preparation  and  sale  of  manuscripts  and  the  pro- 
tection of  authors'  rights. 

From  Robert,  Janet  had  extracted  a  promise  to  supervise 
the  department  of  criticism  and  revision.  Claude  (this  was 
before  his  flight  in  a  fit  of  pique)  had  refused  to  take  the 
project  seriously.  Cornelia,  in  her  most  pronounced  bel 
canto  style,  had  volunteered  to  "lend  a  helping  hand"  to 
the  typewriting  department  and  to  give  her  moral  support 
to  most  of  the  other  departments.  As  Janet's  last  illusions 
about  Cornelia  were  being  speedily  dissipated,  and  as  she 
judged  that  some  birds  in  a  bush  are  worth  ten  in  the  hand, 
she  contracted  for  Cornelia's  moral  support  and  nothing 
but  her  moral  support  in  all  the  departments. 

Then,  as  regards  the  legal  department.  Janet  held  that, 
in  order  to  round  out  her  business  in  the  most  complete 
way,  one  member  of  the  firm  ought  to  be  equipped  with  a 
first-hand  training  in  jurisprudence.  She  saw  nothing  for 
it  but  to  be  this  member  herself,  and  accordingly  she  had 
already  made  arrangements  to  attend  the  coming  fall  sessions 
of  an  Evening  Law  School.  Needless  to  say,  this  part  of 
her  dream  had  not  been  so  much  as  breathed  to  Claude. 

Janet  intended,  as  soon  as  she  had  passed  her  bar  exami- 
nation, to  specialize  on  all  points  of  law  bearing  on  literary 
and  dramatic  productions,  the  rights  of  authors,  and  the 
relations  between  the  buyers  and  sellers  of  manuscripts. 
She  had  been  put  onto  this  idea  by  a  popular  short-story 
writer,  one  of  Mr.  Grey's  friends.  This  man  had  assured 


266  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

her  that  the  literary  field,  on  its  legal  side,  was  practically 
a  virgin  field.  Merchants,  inventors,  landlords,  captains 
of  industry  and  the  like  could,  where  the  law  touched  their 
spheres  of  influence,  find  appropriate  legal  specialists  with 
all  the  precedents,  traditions,  decisions,  appeals,  evasions, 
etc.,  at  their  fingers'  ends.  Authors  alone  were  in  no  such 
happy  case.  The  legal  background  of  authorship  was  a 
vast  morass  of  contradictions,  quibbles  and  uncertainties. 
Authors  were  frequently  at  sea  in  respect  of  their  rights, 
constantly  handicapped  in  the  matter  of  expert  advice,  and 
always  liable  to  be  done  in  the  eye  by  the  more  unscrupu- 
lous members  of  the  fraternity  of  editors,  publishers,  man- 
agers and  agents. 

This,  then,  was  the  field  that  Janet  meant  to  conquer. 
She  had  a  roseate  vision  of  Barr  &  Lloyd  occupying  a 
suite  of  offices  on  the  lower  end  of  Madison  or  Park  Avenue. 
If  fortune  favored  her,  these  offices  were  to  be  staffed  with 
ambitious  young  women  assistants  whom  she  would  help 
to  useful  and  honorable  careers  (as  far  as  male  prejudice 
and  discrimination  would  allow).  Barr  &  Lloyd,  in  other 
words,  besides  their  primary  business  as  manuscript  prac- 
titioners, would  have  a  secondary  mission,  namely,  that 
of  multiplying  the  avenues  along  which  woman  might  march 
towards  economic  equality  with  men. 

Such  was  the  purpose  which  Janet  had  already  begun  to 
work  for.  She  now  saw  all  her  plans  collapsing  like  a 
pricked  balloon.  The  action  taken  by  Mrs.  Grey  meant 
the  loss  of  much  potential  custom  which  she  had  hoped 
would  grow  by  recommendation  out  of  the  Grey  patronage. 
The  most  galling,  stabbing  fact  in  all  this  sorry  business 
was  the  reflection  that  she  had  failed  not  merely  in  her 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  267 

human  and  business  dealings  but  in  her  workmanship.  If 
only  she  hadn't  made  a  mess  of  those  last  manuscripts  for 
the  playwright,  the  ones  she  had  prepared  under  the  strain 
of  Claude's  tempestuous  displeasure!  Mrs.  Grey's  taunt 
still  rankled  in  her  ears:  "As  a  typist,  you  cut  a  very  poor 
figure  — " 

True,  Mrs.  Grey  had  tacked  on  another  phrase  —  the 
one  about  her  "magic  combination."  But  what  did  this 
trumped-up  compliment  weigh  against  the  maddening  be- 
havior of  Claude  and  Robert? 

Both  of  them  had  deserted  her! 

Janet  was  not  addicted  to  the  windy  heroics  cultivated 
by  the  Outlaws  of  Kips  Bay,  but  for  once  she  believed 
herself  entitled  to  indulge  in  them.  She  really  felt  deserted. 
By  Claude,  by  Robert,  by  Cornelia  and,  of  course,  by  her 
family. 

"How  naturally  I  think  of  the  family  when  I'm  glum!" 
was  her  silent  comment. 

Her  thoughts  ran  back  to  the  time  when  she  had  left 
home  in  defiance  of  Mrs.  Barr's  ultimatum. 

Since  then,  her  mother  had  written  one  letter  full  of 
that  spirit  of  Christian  forbearance  that  has  driven  so 
many  people  into  the  devil's  camp.  After  that,  not  another 
word  from  her.  But  there  had  followed  a  steady  stream 
of  appeals  from  her  father,  imploring  her  to  come  back  at 
any  price,  swearing  that  life  at  home  was  not  worth  living 
without  her,  and  promising  to  do  anything  in  the  wide 
world  she  demanded  (except,  as  Janet  sardonically  observed 
to  herself,  damp  down  her  mother's  tyranny  a  trifle.  He 
had  never  had,  and  he  never  would  have,  the  nerve  to  do 
this  or  to  put  up  the  least  show  of  fight.) 


268  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

As  a  last  effort,  her  sister  Emily  had  paid  a  visit  to  the 
Lorillard  tenements  —  partly  perhaps  from  curiosity.  She 
affirmed  that  she  had  come  of  her  own  free  will,  and  prob- 
ably believed  this  statement  to  be  the  truth.  Janet  knew 
very  well  that  her  sister  was,  consciously  or  unconsciously, 
the  family  ambassador.  The  Barrs  always  throve  best  when 
their  right  hand  did  not  know  what  their  left  hand  was 
doing. 

Emily,  all  a-tingle  with  the  exhilaration  which  an  angel 
inevitably  feels  when  descending  upon  a  glittering  abode  of 
vice,  had  tried  hard  not  to  betray  her  excitement.  In  a 
tone  essenced  with  pious  sorrow  and  celestial  distress! 
She  had  assured  the  erring  one  (though  not  in  these  words), 
that  all  would  be  forgiven  if  only  she  returned  to  her  home 
before  the  world  (of  the  Barrs)  should  discover  that  a  Barr 
had  abandoned  Brooklyn  for  Kips  Bay,  and  her  family  for 
the  society  of  atheists,  Bolshevists,  and  Bohemians! 

"But  I  haven't  the  faintest  notion  of  abandoning  you," 
Janet  had  replied.  "I  believe  I  can  lead  a  fuller,  freer,  more 
active  Jife  away  from  mother's  apron  strings,  that's  all.  Of 
course  I  want  to  see  the  family  from  time  to  time.  I  could 
come  on  short  visits — " 

Emily  had  assured  her,  not  without  a  trace  of  exulta- 
tion, that  Mrs.  Barr  would  never  hear  of  such  a  cool 
arrangement.  Either  the  prodigal  daughter  returned  once 
and  for  all,  or  the  family  would  treat  her  as  dead. 

"Really!  But  how  you'll  miss  the  funeral!"  Janet  had 
wickedly  exclaimed. 

At  which  Emily  had  put  on  her  gloves. 

All  later  messages  sent  by  Janet  to  her  mother  in  an 
effort  to  put  their  mutual  relations  on  a  more  reasonable 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  269 

footing  had  been  severely  ignored.  The  only  communica- 
tions she  had  received  were  growingly  infrequent  notes  from 
her  father,  and  these  contained  nothing  but  the  same  old 
appeals  —  sentimental,  pathetic,  fatuous. 

Ill 

The  doorbell  startled  her  out  of  her  long,  melancholy 
reverie.  She  flew  to  the  threshold,  and  in  came  Claude! 

She  had  proposed  to  treat  him  coolly  at  their  next 
meeting.  But  his  return  was  as  sudden  as  it  was  unex- 
pected. And  he  was  Claude,  the  same  Claude  with  the 
same  striking  appearance,  the  same  telling  voice,  the  same 
handsome  face.  Instantly,  the  magnetic  spark  that  had 
darted  from  one  to  the  other  at  the  Outlaws'  Ball  made 
its  swift,  poignant,  thrilling  leap  between  them  again. 

Though  words  were  superfluous,  Claude,  as  he  clasped 
her  in  a  passionate  embrace,  murmured: 

"Janet,  darling,  forgive  me.  I  was  a  beast  to  write  a 
letter  like  that." 

"Confession  is  good  for  the  soul,"  said  Janet,  laughing 
and  trying  to  release  her  head. 

"Are  you  angry?  Well,  you  ought  to  be.  And  I  ought 
to  grovel  in  the  dust  at  your  feet.  You  are  a  saint  to 
forgive  me,  and  I  should  be  ashamed  to  accept  forgiveness 
if  I  hadn't  suffered.  Yes,  Janet,  I've  suffered  cruelly.  I 
never  had  so  keen  a  grief  and  I  never  so  thoroughly 
deserved  one.  But  I'm  nearly  ill  with  worry." 

He  did  look  pale,  nor  did  it  hurt  his  cause  that  pallor 
became  him.  Besides,  his  apologies  were  as  overwhelming 
as  his  fits  of  temper.  How  could  the  poor  girl  help  for- 
giving him? 


270  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

And  so  Janet,  who  but  a  few  minutes  before  had  been 
considering  (mock-heroically  to  be  sure)  sundry  historic 
forms  of  self-slaughter,  now  forgot  all  about  jumping  off 
Brooklyn  Bridge,  etc.,  and  poured  a  heavenly  compassion 
on  Claude. 

"Something  happened  in  Huntington,"  she  said.  "Some- 
thing serious.  Does  it  involve  me?  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
straight." 

"That  scoundrel  Burley  tipped  my  father  off  about  us, 
and  as  a  result,  the  old  man  is  half  out  of  his  wits.  He  is 
determined  that  my  marriage  with  Marjorie  shall  not  fall 
through,  for  the  one  terror  of  his  life  is  that  of  disobliging 
Mr.  Armstrong.  In  what  form  the  word  was  passed  along 
the  line,  I  don't  know.  But  they  were  at  me,  one  and  all, 
day  and  night,  giving  me  a  hundred  and  one  sly  intimations 
of  the  general  satisfaction  that  would  follow  the  much 
desired  event.  The  pressure  got  to  be  unbearable." 

He  said  that  the  older  people  had  left  no  stone  unturned 
to  bring  the  Armstrong-Fontaine  alliance  to  pass.  Pacing 
the  floor  restlessly,  he  spoke  of  the  delicate  hints,  the  veiled 
references,  the  consummate  skill  with  which  he  and  Mar- 
jorie were  engineered  into  tete-a-tetes.  Could  Janet  picture 
him  alone  with  Marjorie,  and  the  resultant  sessions  of 
sweet,  silent  thought?  Had  she  any  idea  of  what  the 
imperious  will  of  Armstrong's  daughter  could  do  in  the  way 
of  maneuvering  a  man  into  the  most  difficult  situations? 

Janet  had  little  difficulty  in  calling  up  an  image  of 
the  stately  brunette  with  lustrous  dark  hair,  patrician 
nose,  and  sulky,  discontented  mouth.  This  imposing  young 
lady  had  impressed  herself  indelibly  upon  Janet's  mind 
at  the  Mineola  Aerodrome,  and,  such  are  the  unfathom- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  271 

able  processes  of  sex,  Janet  profoundly  pitied  Claude.  She 
did  this  without  a  suspicion  that  he  might  be  drawing 
generously  upon  his  imagination  for  the  sake  of  that  very 
pity  of  hers,  which  she  gave  him  so  divinely.  Nor  did  it 
occur  to  her  that  there  were  few  young  men  in  all  New 
York  who  would  have  been  in  unrelieved  misery  if  Mar- 
jorie  Armstrong  had  set  her  cap  at  them. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Claude  quite  omitted  to  mention 
that  he  had  gone  to  Huntington  with  more  than  a  vague 
notion  of  finding  out  whether  he  and  Marjorie  couldn't 
hit  it  off  together,  after  all;  also  that,  if  Marjorie,  with  all 
her  eagerness  to  capture  him,  had  not  so  plainly  exposed 
her  design  of  "bossing"  the  marriage  after  it  had  taken 
place  —  well,  then  — 

What  he  did  say,  was: 

"Of  course,  I  was  left  quite  free  to  do  as  I  pleased.  Oh, 
quite  free.  They  wouldn't  lead  the  horse  to  water  —  not 
they,  that  would  be  brutal  coercion  —  they  would  simply 
make  it  drink." 

This  irony  expressed  the  full  truth.  Claude  had  virtually 
given  his  father  a  promise  not  to  marry  Janet.  But  Mr. 
Fontaine  senior  put  no  faith  in  vows  that  were  subject  to 
the  stresses  and  strains  of  love.  Mistrustful  of  his  son's 
infatuation  and  also  of  the  unknown  quantity  of  Janet's 
ambition,  he  did  not  scruple  to  adopt  any  tactical  measure 
by  which  the  union  of  the  Armstrong-Fontaine  forces 
might  be  achieved. 

"What  do  you  mean  to  do?"  asked  Janet,  greatly 
troubled. 

"What  can  I  do?  What  can  any  prisoner  do?  Run 
away  I  suppose." 


272  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"What  — without  me?" 

"Well,  you  see,  I'm  planning  to  go  to  Europe,  darling. 
Separated  by  the  Atlantic  I  shall  be  able  to  make  my  posi- 
tion much  clearer  to  my  father.  An  ocean  is  an  astonishing 
convenience  when  it  stands  between  the  giver  and  the  re- 
ceiver of  an  explanation." 

"Yes,  but  why  can't  I  go,  too?" 

"You  dear  innocent,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  tenderly, 
"we  can't  go  cavorting  over  two  continents  as  if  we  were 
merely  joy-riding  from  here  to  Quakertown." 

"Why  not?"  she  persisted,  with  her  customary  refusal 
to  be  sidetracked. 

IV 

The  question  embarrassed  him.  Even  had  he  been  clear 
about  the  train  of  thought  at  the  back  of  his  mind,  he  could 
not,  in  all  brutal  directness,  have  said:  "A  man  in  my 
station  does  not  flaunt  his  mistresses  in  the  face  of  the 
public.  That  is  all  very  well  for  the  vulgar  rich.  But  not 
for  my  sort.  High-class  polygamy  is  strictly  sub  rosa." 

Claude  did  not  explicitly  think  this,  much  less  say  it. 
His  chief  difficulty  in  the  way  of  reaching  a  straightforward 
understanding  with  Janet  was  that  his  mind  did  not  work 
straightforwardly  upon  the  problem  of  sex  relations.  His 
adopted  radical  professions  were  entirely  subordinate  to 
powerful,  instinctive  reactions  along  traditional  lines. 

Thus,  at  heart,  he  had  little  use  for  Janet's  views  about 
free  love.  To  Janet,  the  term  meant  a  public  abandonment 
of  an  obsolete  institution.  To  Claude,  it  was  little  more 
than  a  polite  synonym  for  illicit  intercourse. 

Claude,  in  fact,  had  no  deep  quarrel  with  existing  insti- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  273 

tutions.  He  prided  himself  on  being  tolerant,  and  his 
tolerance  extended  to  the  institutions  of  Bohemianism 
(which  had  no  recognition  in  law),  as  well  as  to  the  insti- 
tutions of  the  established  order  (which  enjoyed  this  recog- 
nition). His  support  of  "advanced"  art,  his  membership 
in  the  Outlaws'  Club,  his  philandering  among  the  Lorillard 
tenementers  —  these  were  all  ways  of  escape  from  the 
particularity  of  normal  civilized  life.  Bohemianism,  by 
systematically  discarding  troublesome  forms,  costly  con- 
ventions and  restrictive  social  obligations,  really  organized 
these  ways  of  escape  for  him  and  provided  a  maximum  of 
pleasure  with  a  minimum  of  effort. 

He  was,  therefore,  by  no  means  prepared  to  go  as  far 
as  Janet  wished  to  go,  openly;  yet  he  was  fully  prepared 
to  go  to  the  limit,  clandestinely.  So  much  so,  that  a  severe 
critic  like  Robert  would  have  said  that  Claude  was  deliber- 
ately taking  advantage  of  Janet's  inexperienced  outlook  on 
life.  And  it  was  quite  true  that  Claude  was  willing  to  profit 
by  her  belief  in  free  love,  although  he  was  far  from  willing 
to  champion  this  belief,  much  less  to  become  a  martyr  in 
its  promotion. 

But  if  he  was  exploiting  Janet's  infatuation  for  him, 
he  was  not  doing  so  consciously.  And  the  fact  remained 
that,  had  she  been  so  minded,  she  could  just  as  easily  have 
exploited  his  infatuation  for  her.  Indeed,  the  latter  would 
have  been  easier.  Claude  was  not  aware  of  this.  He  was 
aware  only  of  his  own  power,  and  he  believed  he  was  exer- 
cising almost  superhuman  self-control  in  an  effort  to  avoid 
compromising  her  future. 

He  believed  he  was  doing  this  now,  whilst  fishing  for  an 
answer  to  Janet's  candid  "why  not?"  A  few  hours  earlier,  in 


274  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Huntington,  under  the  concerted  pressure  of  the  Armstrong 
family,  he  had  realized  that  he  would  have  to  give  up 
either  Marjorie  or  Janet;  and  it  had  occurred  to  him  that 
if  he  took  Janet  now,  Marjorie  was  not  lost  to  him  later; 
whereas  if  he  took  Marjorie  now,  Janet  was  lost  to  him 
forever. 

Naturally,  it  was  not  in  terms  of  pitiless  realism  that  he 
sought  to  explain  his  choice. 

A  more  heroic  explanation  was  that  he  had  given  up 
Marjorie  for  Janet's  sake,  and  that,  on  a  peremptory  sum- 
mons of  the  heart,  he  had  run  away  from  Huntington  deter- 
mined to  risk  everything  —  from  his  father's  wrath  to  the 
loss  of  Mr.  Armstrong's  protection  in  the  matter  of  smug- 
gled diamonds.  The  heroic  explanation  was  the  one  he 
meant  to  give  to  Janet. 

Looking,  at  the  moment,  into  Janet's  gray  eyes  in  their 
superb  setting  of  long,  dark  lashes,  he  was  ready  to  give 
his  thoughts  any  form  that  might  be  acceptable  to  her. 
Surely,  such  a  mixture  of  radical  daring  and  native  good 
sense,  of  enticement  and  candor,  of  self-reliance  that  en- 
nobled her  and  soft  yielding  that  flattered  him  —  such  a 
mixture  had  never  before  been  found  in  one  woman  It 
made  her  exquisite,  enigmatic,  thrilling  and  quite  indis- 
pensable to  him. 

So  reasoned  his  heart.  And  all  his  commanding  non- 
chalance returned. 


The  result  was  that  when  Janet,  failing  to  get  an  answer 
to  her  question,  repeated  anew  her  wish  to  accompany 
him  abroad,  he  enfolded  her  in  his  arms  and  said: 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  275 

"After  all,  why  not?" 

And  after  a  fervent  embrace,  he  added: 

"Janet,  I  think  you  ought  to  face  what's  in  store  for  us." 

"Don't  let's  cross  bridges,  Claude,"  she  pleaded. 

"We'll  get  married,  of  course,"  he  went  on,  unheeding  her. 
"Frankly,  my  father  won't  like  it.  He'll  probably  make 
Rome  howl.  However,  he'll  get  used  to  it  in  the  end  — 
especially  when  he  meets  you.  But,  though  there's  a  storm 
ahead,  you  are  brave  and  we'll  weather  it,  I'm  sure." 

"Your  father  won't  raise  a  storm,"  said  Janet,  with  a 
strange  smile,  "for  a  small  but  important  reason.  Re- 
member, I'm  not  going  to  be  married." 

"Janet!" 

"You  know  I  don't  believe  in  it." 

They  argued  the  matter  pro  and  con,  she  spiritedly,  he 
lamely.  Janet  pointed  out,  among  other  things,  that  when 
Mr.  Fontaine  senior  learnt  of  their  free  union  he  was  little 
likely  to  attempt  any  serious  interference,  but  would  count 
on  time  to  separate  them. 

"  'Love's  not  Time's  fool!'  "  said  Claude,  quoting  dithy- 
rambically.  "We'll  never  be  separated,  darling,  will  we?" 

"Well  —  not  for  the  present,"  said  Janet,  with  dancing 
eyes.  "I  won't  vouch  for  our  dim  and  distant  feelings." 

"No  teasing,  you  darling  imp!" 

"Claude,  I  mean  it.  If  —  if  it  should  turn  out  that  your 
father  was  right,  that  will  merely  prove  that  we  were 
wrong." 

He  was  at  a  complete  loss  how  to  treat  her  incredible 
self-surrender.  As  a  man  of  the  world,  he  was  part  scan- 
dalized, part  uneasy,  according  as  he  swerved  from  the  con- 
viction that  Janet  was  candid,  to  the  suspicion  that  she 


276  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

was  designing.  Again,  as  a  gay  Bohemian  trifler,  he  saw 
in  her  attitude  an  easy  way  out  of  possible  complications. 
Whether  he  should  or  should  not  carry  out  his  offer  of 
marriage  was  now  a  question  he  would  not  have  to  face. 
She  did  not  mean  to  put  his  vows  to  the  test!  This  was 
breath-bereaving,  staggering;  it  was  even  slightly  annoying. 
But,  her  eccentric  choice  being  a  fact,  surely  the  conse- 
quences did  not  rest  on  his  soul? 

"Janet,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  doing!"  he  cried 
out  involuntarily,  being  torn  many  ways  at  once. 

She,  too,  was  greatly  agitated;  but,  under  the  pressure  of 
her  theory,  she  kept  her  head.  While  he  stood  there  as  if 
distraught,  she  poured  out  a  flood  of  reasons  to  which  he 
scarcely  listened.  For  instance,  she  said  it  was  criminal 
for  two  people  to  form  a  permanent  union  or  bring  children 
into  a  family  until  they  were  sure  of  being  well-suited  to 
each  other  and  of  establishing  a  family  that  children  would 
wish  to  enter. 

All  marriages  ought  to  be  trial  marriages  of  the  kind  that 
George  Meredith  had  suggested  long  ago. 

Moreover,  until  she  became  independent  in  the  matter 
of  money,  she  couldn't  dream  of  subscribing  to  any  perma- 
nent arrangement. 

He  replied  that  this  was  all  nonsense  and  derided  Mere- 
dith as  a  bookworm  and  a  dreamer.  For  his  own  part, 
hadn't  he  money  enough  to  provide  for  them  both?  If  she 
wouldn't  take  half  his  money,  she  didn't  love  him.  That 
was  flat  I 

"I  do  love  you!"  cried  Janet,  with  more  visible  emotion 
than  before.  "That's  why  I  mustn't  marry  you." 

He  rose  with  a  wild  movement. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  277 

"I  must  save  myself  —  and  you,  too!"  he  murmured. 
"I'm  going  abroad  by  the  first  steamer." 

But  these  words  were  dashed  with  insurgent  passion. 
Handsome,  hypnotic,  intense,  his  whole  being  vibrated 
towards  her.  She  surrendered  incontinently. 

"Not  without  me!"  she  said,  enchaining  him  in  her  arms. 

He  kissed  her  tempestuously. 

"It's  a  daring  step,  and  a  perilous  one,"  he  said,  more 
in  weak  protest  than  in  forceful  remonstrance. 

"No,  no,  no!"  she  cried,  as  with  a  gesture  of  ecstasy 
she  hid  her  face  on  his  shoulder. 


PART  IV 
NEMESIS 

CHAPTER  TWENTY 


One  morning  in  the  middle  of  August,  Harry  Kelly  cut 
short  his  gymnastics  and  went  downstairs  to  get  fruit, 
cream  and  rolls  for  Cornelia,  as  he  had  done  daily  since 
Janet  left.  The  letter  box  held  one  letter,  a  fat  one,  post- 
marked Paris.  Cornelia  was  inclined  to  be  lackadaisical 
before  breakfast,  but  a  letter  enlivened  her  at  once, 
especially  if  it  came  from  a  long-lost  friend  or  bore  a  foreign 
postmark.  Kelly  sent  his  powerful  form  bounding  up  the 
staircase,  the  victuals  being  safeguarded  by  a  miracle  of 
balancing. 

"A  letter  from  Paris,"  he  called  out  joyfully,  as  he 
entered  Apartment  Fifteen. 

"From  Janet!"  exclaimed  Cornelia  with  conviction.  One 
glance  at  the  handwriting  verified  her  guess. 

"Janet's  hand,"  she  said,  and  tore  the  envelope  open 
feverishly. 

"Wouldn't  you  enjoy  reading  it  more  after  breakfast?" 
he  said  wistfully  as  he  watched  Cornelia  unfolding  a  great 
many  pages  of  writing. 

"What  an  idea!  Make  the  coffee,  Hercules,  there's  a 
good  boy.  The  water  is  boiling;  all  you  need  to  do  is  to 
pour  the  water  on  the  coffee  and  let  it  stand." 

As  Kelly  had  fallen  sle  heir  to  the  daily  duty  of  pre- 
paring her  breakfast,  he  uncomplainingly  went  to  work. 
Meanwhile,  Cornelia,  in  a  very  becoming  green-and-gold 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  279 

Mimosa  jacket,  sat  down  on  a  lounge  and  buried  herself 
in  Janet's  letter. 

II 
Dear  Cornelia: 

Here  I  am  in  the  Luxembourg  Gardens,  alone  with  my 
fountain  pen  and  my  pad  of  paper,  Claude  having  gone  to 
the  races  as  the  guest  of  a  Russian  Grand  Duke.  I  feel  ages 
removed  from  the  days  of  Kips  Bay,  though  by  the  calendar 
only  four  weeks  have  gone  by. 

Why  haven't  you  heard  from  me  in  all  this  time?  That, 
I  imagine,  is  the  first  question  you  would  ask  me  if  we  met 
face  to  face.  No,  you  wouldn't.  You  would  divine  the 
answer.  You  would  know  that  the  blinding,  paralyzing, 
notoriety  into  which  we  were  suddenly  plunged,  left  me  with 
but  one  desire,  the  supreme  desire  for  solitude.  A  desert 
without  a  single  oasis  would  not  have  been  too  lonely  for 
me  to  live  in.  For  a  few  days  even  Claude — 

Those  cruel  headlines,  those  stabbing  capital  letters! 
Like  points  of  fire  in  a  demon  dance  they  riot  in  and  out 
of  my  memory  yet.  "Affinity  or  Elopement!"  "Fontaine 
Heir  Meets  Enchantress  on  Baronia!"  "Diamond  King's 
Son  in  Joy-Ride  to  Europe! "  How  did  the  inquisition  hap- 
pen to  overlook  such  exquisite  weapons  of  torture  as  huge 
red  capitals  on  a  smooth  white  space? 

Writing  the  letters  down  affords  a  mild  relief.  To  my 
physical  sight,  not  to  my  mind's  eye.  Oh  yes,  I  actually 
saw  the  headlines  that  Hutchins  Burley  fabricated  in  his 
newspaper  story.  Some  thoughtful  enemy  of  Claude's 
took  pains  to  have  a  copy  of  the  Evening  Chronicle  for- 
warded to  his  Paris  address. 

Didn't  you  guess  at  once  that  Hutchins  was  the  beast 
responsible  for  the  publicity  we  got?  That  vicious  man 
has  a  mortal  grudge  to  pay  off  against  me  or  against  Claude 
or  perhaps  against  us  both.  But  what  for? 

How  he  got  on  our  track,  heaven  alone  knows.  Heaven 
and  Mark  Pryor. 


280  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Yes,  Cornelia,  our  own  Mark  Pryor  (the  human  embodi- 
ment of  the  theory  of  protective  coloration,  as  Robert 
called  him) — he  it  was  who  brought  me  the  fateful  news. 
In  this  wise. 

On  the  second  morning  out,  I  was  taking  a  turn  around 
the  deck  by  myself,  while  Claude  was  chatting  with  the 
captain.  (The  "Baronia's"  captain  is  an  old  friend  of 
Claude's  family,  the  Fontaines  being  heavy  shareholders  in 
the  steamship  company.  This  was  the  connection  that 
enabled  us  to  get  accommodations  at  such  short  notice, 
the  purser's  room  having  been  given  up  to  me  and  the 
second  engineer's  quarters  to  Claude.) 

As  I  said,  I  was  roving  about  the  upper  deck,  when  one 
of  the  ventilators  or  posts  or  something,  suddenly  became 
alive.  Or  so  it  seemed  to  my  startled  eyes.  Walking 
remorselessly  towards  me,  this  no  longer  stationary  object 
magically  assumed  the  form  and  voice  of  Mark  Pryor!  You 
could  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather.  ( By  the  way, 
I'm  more  certain  than  ever  that  he's  a  detective  or  a  spy 
or  a  Soviet  propagandist — or  can  he  be  merely  an  American 
novelist  studying  life  for  the  Saturday  Evening  Post?} 

Whatever  the  key  to  his  inmost  mystery,  I've  always  been 
greatly  taken  with  him.  He's  like  a  flash  of  lightning  on  a 
pitch-dark  night:  his  comings  and  goings  are  never  more 
sinister  or  mysterious  than  when  his  sudden  vivid  presence 
gives  them  a  momentary  relief. 

Without  letting  me  into  the  secret  of  his  skill  at  sleight- 
of-hand  (or  rather,  sleight-of-feet),  he  drew  me  aside  and 
told  me  in  a  most  sympathetic  way  of  the  story  about 
Claude  and  me  that  was  being  headlined  in  the  Evening 
Chronicle  and  that  was  soon  to  be  the 'gossip  of  two  con- 
tinents. The  information  had  breezed  his  way — by  wire- 
less. Out  of  pure  regard  for  me,  he  had  bribed  the  radio 
man  to  keep  mum.  Wasn't  it  splendid  of  him?  But  he 
warned  me  to  prepare  for  a  leak.  "The  only  thing  you 
can  keep  dark  nowadays  is  the  truth,"  he  said,  in  his  quiet 
way,  without  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

He  also  said  that  Hutchins  Burley  was  certainly  at  the 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  281 

bottom  of  the  whole  scandal.  He  was  sure  of  this,  because 
he  had  seen  Burley  on  the  pier  shortly  before  the  "Baronia" 
left,  and  because  of  other  reasons  which  he  declared  he  was 
not  at  liberty  to  divulge. 

After  predicting  that  we  should  meet  again,  Mr.  Pryor 
"faded  away"  as  imperceptibly  as  usual,  leaving  me  a  prey 
to  my  thoughts.  My  heart  was  mostly  in  my  boots  and  I 
can  tell  you  I  was  getting  pretty  limp  when  I  pulled  myself 
up  short  with  the  reminder  that  I  must  pluck  up  a  little 
courage  if  only  to  show  that  I  deserved  a  disinterested 
friend  like  Mr.  Pryor.  (He's  in  France  at  present,  on  some 
dark  business  or  other.  I  don't  care  how  dark,  I'm  glad 
he's  here.  The  mere  fact  gives  me  the  sensation  of  being 
watched  over.  I'm  confident  that  Mark  Pryor's  keen 
sight  is  at  least  as  far-reaching  as  the  long  arm  of  coin- 
cidence.) 

It  wasn't  exactly  a  picnic  to  tell  Claude  the  news.  Like 
most  of  us,  Claude  thrives  wonderfully  well  on  good  luck 
but  takes  bad  luck  hard.  Naturally,  to  a  man  who  has  so 
many  important  friends,  newspaper  notoriety  is  a  bitter  pill 
to  swallow.  Claude  raged  at  his  fate  with  a  violence  that 
frightened  me.  He  tortured  himself  by  anticipating  the 
libels  to  which  his  character  would  be  exposed,  the  pictures 
of  himself  and  me  that  the  yellow  newspapers  would  print, 
the  slanders  that  the  busybodies  would  privately  circulate. 
How  his  father  and  the  Armstrongs  would  take  the  affair 
was  another  source  of  torment.  And  then  there  was  the 
fear  that  the  story  might  leak  out  on  the  "Baronia"  and  that 
we  should  become  the  talk  of  the  ship. 

It  was  a  calamity.  And  the  worst  of  it  was  that  Claude 
appeared  to  think  I  was  in  some  way  directly  responsible 
for  it.  His  anger  worried  me  far  more  than  the  notoriety 
did;  the  angrier  he  got,  the  more  the  notoriety  sank  into 
relative  insignificance.  He  accused  me  of  being  callous! 
Wasn't  that  monstrously  unjust?  Merely  because  my 
advice  was  that  we  should  make  the  best  of  a  very  bad 
matter  and  face  the  world  as  if  nothing  had  happened  of 
which  we  were  ashamed.  He  took  my  calmness,  which  was 


282  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

all  on  the  surface,  as  a  personal  affront.  It  infuriated  him 
more  (if  that  were  possible)  than  the  exposure,  and  caused 
him  to  accuse  me  of  disloyalty  and  lack  of  sympathy.  Are 
men  ever  satisfied?  They  pretend  that  they  can't  endure 
a  weeping  woman.  Yet,  give  them  a  stoical  countenance, 
and  they'll  ask  for  tears. 

No,  Cornelia,  this  was  not  the  first  rift.  That  had  come 
on  the  very  evening  we  sailed,  when  the  passengers  held  a 
dance  on  deck  in  the  moonlight.  I  was  not  feeling  very 
well  and  danced  only  once,  but  Claude  did  full  duty  as  a 
leader  of  the  cotillion.  During  his  absence  from  my  side, 
a  young  British  captain  in  mufti  (he  had  been  an  ace  in 
the  war)  sat  down  in  a  steamer  chair  next  to  mine  and 
helped  me,  what  with  his  charming  manner  and  his  gor- 
geous British  accent,  to  while  away  the  time. 

All  went  swimmingly  until,  in  an  interval  between  dances, 
Claude  came  back  to  me.  Can  you  call  up  an  image  of 
Claude,  the  magnificent,  approaching  at  a  temperature  of 
absolute  zero?  His  manner,  of  the  ice  icy,  froze  the  poor 
captain  dead  away.  This  done,  he  turned  on  me  and  asked 
me  what  I  meant  by  "picking  a  man  up ! " 

You  can  imagine  that  I  replied  pretty  tartly,  and  one 
word  led  to  another  till  we  reached  a  point  where  Claude 
threatened  that  he  would  never  marry  me — no,  not  for  all 
the  king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men.  At  this,  I  burst 
out  laughing.  My  laughter  was  immodest,  unladylike, 
spiteful.  And  I  should  have  regretted  it,  had  Claude  under- 
stood me.  But  Claude  is  in  some  respects  a  reincarnation 
of  Kipling's  famous  vampire  lady.  He  had  never  under- 
stood, and  now,  he  never  will  understand. 

But  I'm  running  ahead  of  my  story. 

As  we  feared,  rumor  and  gossip  about  us  soon  had  free 
rein  on  board  the  "Baronia."  Poor  Claude  had  to  bear  the 
brunt  of  this  annoyance  and  of  the  Captain's  anger,  too. 
That  Claude  and  a  lady  were  together  on  the  voyage  had 
certainly  been  a  secret,  but  a  secret  to  which  the  old  sea- 
dog  was  a  party.  The  Captain's  sense  of  propriety  was  not 
outraged  by  the  secret.  It  was  outraged  only  when  the 
secret  became  a  matter  of  common  knowledge.  And  he 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  283 

did  not  permit  a  feeling  of  delicacy  to  restrain  his  indig- 
nation against  his  fellow  conspirators. 

What  happened  on  the  "Baronia"  was  trifling  compared 
to  the  furor  of  our  landing  at  Southampton.  We  were  met 
by  "all  the  latest  London  papers"  filled  with  the  wildest 
details  of  our  "elopement."  That  is  the  way  they  featured 
our  experiment  over  here.  It  was  described  as  the  elope- 
ment of  a  young  multimillionaire  with  a  poor  plebeian 
stenographer,  an  elopement  carried  out  in  the  teeth  of  a 
tyrant  father  with  invincibly  aristocratic  prejudices.  Shades 
of  the  Barrs  and  their  Mayflower  ancestry! 

Worse  remained  behind.  The  English  reporters  promptly 
spotted  Claude.  You  can't  be  six  feet  two  in  your  socks 
and  have  the  airs  and  graces  of  Prince  Charming,  without 
being  conspicuous  even  amongst  a  crowd  of  first-class 
passengers  on  a  fifty-thousand-ton  liner.  When  the  news- 
paper men  plied  poor  Claude  with  questions,  I  began  to 
weaken  at  the  knees.  But  Claude  was  a  trump.  He  kept 
his  most  nonchalant  air,  gave  cleverly  evasive  answers,  and 
even  begged  one  of  his  tormentors  for  a  cigarette  quite  in 
the  style  of  the  imperturbable  villain  of  a  screen  play. 
Then  a  battery  of  motion  picture  men  turned  their  cameras 
on  us.  Mark  Pryor  and  the  British  captain  swooped  down 
to  the  rescue  at  this  critical  moment,  which  was  very  lucky 
for  us,  as  we  had  just  about  exhausted  our  nerve  (  to  say 
nothing  of  our  nerves). 

We  stayed  in  London  barely  forty-eight  hours.  In  spite 
of  our  assumed  names  we  were  bundled  out  of  three  hotels, 
thanks  to  the  curiosity  of  reporters  who  kept  after  Claude 
as  though  he  were  a  ticket-of-leave  man.  I  had  supposed 
that  only  American  journalists  hounded  people,  but  evi- 
dently the  London  tribesmen  have  taken  a  leaf  out  of  the 
New  York  book  in  the  matter  of  pitiless  persistence.  Claude 
felt  so  harrassed,  outraged  and  persecuted  that  he  could  not 
get  out  of  London  fast  enough.  He  saw  a  reporter  in  every 
strange  face  and  lived  in  constant  dread  of  another  forced 
interview  until  we  were  safely  across  the  Channel. 


284  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

And  now  I  had  better  answer  the  question  that  I  know 
is  uppermost  in  your  mind. 

We  have  been  living  as  a  married  couple!  Now  it's  out. 
Your  Janet,  the  bold  and  fearless  advocate  of  free  unions, 
has  been  masquerading  as  a  wife,  a  timorous  and  trustful, 
cowering  and  respectable  wife,  differing  from  other  wives 
only  in  being  a  fraud. 

It's  a  terrible  comedown,  a  sickening  fall  from  grace, 
isn't  it? 

But  what  else  could  I  have  done,  short  of  leaving  Claude 
entirely? 

You  see,  Cornelia,  the  stark  fact  was  that  we  couldn't  get 
accommodations  anywhere  except  by  pretending  that  we 
were  married.  Had  we  declined  to  make  this  pretense,  we 
couldn't  have  remained  together  at  all  unless  we  adopted 
all  sorts  of  secret,  underground,  time  consuming  devices. 
It  was  a  choice  between  the  pretense  and  the  secrecy — a 
Hobson's  choice,  so  far  as  I  could  see. 

Cornelia's  lips  curled  with  contempt.  She  could  not 
escape  the  reflection  that  she  had  showed  much  more 
courage  when  she  had  been  in  London  with  Percival 
Houghton. 

I  must  add  that  free  love,  at  any  rate  in  my  case,  has 
proved  a  failure,  a  dead  failure.  I  do  not  say  that  trial 
experiments  in  loving  and  living  together  should  not  be 
made,  but  I  do  say  that  the  time  is  not  ripe  for  them.  At 
present,  the  two  scores  I  have  against  free  love  are:  First, 
that  it  simply  won't  work;  and  second,  that  the  only  thing 
about  it  that  is  free  is  the  undesired  advertising  one  gets. 

This  conclusion  has  not  been  reached  in  what  Mrs.  Grey 
calls  the  cool,  disinterested  spirit  of  the  dispassionate 
investigator.  All  the  same,  it  is  my  conclusion. 

Of  course,  it  is  an  abominable  thing  that  a  unique, 
intensely  individual  experience  like  love  should  have  to  be 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  285 

made  the  subject  of  public  inquiry  and  official  registration 
before  it  can  claim  to  be  legitimate.  In  a  more  highly 
civilized  nation,  such  a  state  of  affairs  would  be  unthink- 
able. But  amongst  us!  Well,  when  you  think  of  our  hous- 
ing, transport,  and  domestic  arrangements,  when  you 
remember  how  primitive  and  rigid  these  still  are,  can  you 
expect  more  fluid  and  elastic  relations  between  the  sexes  to 
be  welcomed  or  even  understood? 

"Huh,"  exclaimed  Cornelia,  half  aloud,  "she  got  all  that 
from  Robert." 

Please  don't  picture  me  as  sitting  down  and  wringing  my 
hands.  What's  done  is  done  and  can't  be  undone.  I've 
made  an  experiment  in  love.  And  if  the  result  hasn't  been 
what  I  expected,  I  have,  like  the  experimental  chemist, 
made  discoveries  I  never  dreamed  of,  discoveries  about  my- 
self, about  other  men  and  women,  and  about  human  institu- 
tions. I  can  truly  say  that  I  haven't  spent  four  more 
unhappy  weeks  in  my  life,  nor — mark  this — four  weeks 
that  have  done  me  more  good. 

I  call  them  unhappy  weeks.  But  suppose  I  had  married 
Claude! 

Well,  I  dare  say  you've  been  thinking  to  yourself:  "She 
is  capable  of  anything;  now  she  will  try  to  sell  out  to  smug 
respectability  and  settle  down  as  Claude's  duly  wedded  and 
articled  wife."  I  admit  this  would  be  the  logical  sequel  to 
my  new  conclusions  about  love  and  marriage.  But  though 
I'm  still  fond  of  Claude,  a  great  streak  of  doubt  has 
crossed  my  dreams  of  a  happy  future  with  him. 

Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth,  Cornelia?  Claude  and  I 
would  make  a  very  poor  team.  I  have  in  mind,  not  his  fits 
of  bad  temper,  which  are  very  annoying,  nor  his  attacks  of 
jealousy,  which  are  monstrous.  I  have  in  mind  his  outlook 
on  affairs  and  his  active  interests,  which  are  in  every 
respect  different  from  mine.  Claude  is  in  love  with  the 
pomps  and  trappings  of  life;  and  I  am  not.  He  goes  in 


286  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

passionately  for  elegance,  luxury,  all  the  externals  which 
men  admire  in  society  or  public  institutions;  and  I  do  not. 
He  wishes  to  study  and  master  the  ritual  of  social  inter- 
course in  all  its  forms  (even  in  its  Kips  Bay  form) ;  and  I 
will  not.  He  is  fond  of  the  gay  boulevards,  the  fashion- 
able restaurants,  the  crowded  promenades;  I  am  fond  of 
quiet  places  and  a  chair  to  myself  in  a  corner  of  a  park. 
Our  divergence  of  tastes  is  almost  absolute.  We  don't  like 
the  same  theatres,  concerts,  pictures;  we  don't  even  like 
the  same  games. 

The  only  game  we  ever  enjoyed  together  was  the  great 
game  of  love.  "What,"  you  will  exclaim,  "y°u  mean  to 
contend  that  this  game,  which  you  played  with  such  aban- 
don, so  thrilled  and  absorbed  and  united  you  both  as  to 
smother  the  thousand  differences  between  you?"  Precisely. 
That  is  what  I  contend,  for  that  is  what  happened.  It  is 
weird,  disconcerting,  inexplicable,  yet  it  is  true. 

Equally  true  is  the  fact  that  Claude  lacks  the  talent  for 
companionship.  With  women,  at  all  events.  He  has  no 
use  for  a  woman  except  as  a  plaything  or  a  wife.  And  he 
does  not  want  his  wife  to  be  a  companion  or  a  partner  in 
his  work.  He  wants  her  to  be  an  ambassador  plenipoten- 
tiary, representing  him  in  polite  society,  and  also  a  species 
of  superior  twentieth-century  domestic  scientist  taking  full 
charge  of  his  creature  comforts  at  home.  I  don't  see  my- 
self in  either  role.  Do  you?  Can  you  picture  me  as  a  sort 
of  mother,  nurse,  housemaid,  valet,  cook  and  errand  girl 
rolled  into  one? 

All  of  which  means  that  I'm  not  quite  ready  yet  to  hand- 
cuff myself  with  Prince  Charming's  household  keys.  "Hoity- 
toity,"  say  you,  "isn't  this  a  bit  like  piling  the  evidence 
sky-high  to  prove  that  the  grapes  aren't  sour?"  Perhaps 
it  is,  but  I  think  not.  It  is  true  that  Claude  hasn't  asked 
me  to  marry  him  yet.  It  is  true  that  whenever  he  is  out  of 
sorts  with  me  he  tells  me  that  my  reputation  is  damaged 
beyond  repair  and  that  I  need  not  look  to  him  to  patch  it 
up.  It  is  true  that  when  I  smile  at  this  he  invariably  insists 
with  explosive  fury  that  he  will  never,  never  ask  me  to 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  287 

marry  him.  He  repeatedly  insists  that  he  will  not.  Still, 
I  believe  that  he  will.  My  problem  is  not  what  will  become 
of  me  if  Claude  doesn't  marry  me,  but  what  will  become 
of  me  if  he  does. 

As  for  my  damaged  reputation,  I'm  really  not  worrying 
about  that.  Say  I  have  sullied  my  character.  In  one  respect, 
a  spot  on  a  character  is  like  a  spot  on  a  fine  satin  dress: 
hard  work  will  wash  all  spots  away. 

But  it  stands  to  reason  that  things  can't  go  on  like  this 
much  longer.  The  little  Sorbonne  pension  in  which  we 
are  staying  (as  Monsieur  and  Madame)  has  its  good 
points.  And  there  are  evenings  when  Claude,  a  little  tired 
of  all  the  famous  and  imposing  Parisians  he  has  met, 
expresses  a  longing  to  be  quite  alone  with  me  again,  and 
transforms  himself  once  more  into  the  Claude  he  was  before 
we  lived  together.  Then  we  walk  along  the  Seine  or  drive 
on  the  wondrous  roads  towards  Fontainebleau  or  Versailles. 
And  these  evenings  are  very  delightful. 

But  they  cannot  be  repeated  forever.  Any  day  I  may 
take  the  step  that  I  ought  to  have  taken  some  time  ago. 

Write  to  me,  Cornelia  dear.  Tell  me  all  the  news  about 
the  tenements.  I  suppose  the  Outlaws  are  as  tame  and 
bourgeois  as  ever.  Does  dear  old  Harry  keep  you  fit  and 
sylph-like  with  his  rising  exercises?  And  how  is  Lydia 
Dyson  shaping?  I  see  she  has  another  serial  in  the  Black 
Baboon  (I  found  a  copy  in  Brentano's  here) — she  must 
have  coined  bushels  of  money  by  it.  I  wish  I  could  work  as 
copiously  on  my  diet  as  she  does  on  hers  of  cigarettes  and 
Haig  and  Haig.  Charlotte  Beecher,  I  fear,  will  be  "through 
with  me"  as  the  cinema  heroes  say.  Has  she  exhibited 
again  or  married  Robert  yet?  Tell  Robert  I  shall  write 
to  him  as  soon  as  I've  done  something  he'll  approve  of. 

Need  I  give  further  hints  of  my  insatiable  hunger  for 
news?  Don't  let  me  continue  to  be  cut  by  the  postman. 
Write  and  write  soon  to 

Your  affectionate  friend, 

Janet. 


288  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

m 

"Janet's  a  little  fool,"  was  Cornelia's  laconic  comment 
as  she  folded  up  the  letter. 

Under  Kelly's  persuasive  service,  she  attacked  breakfast. 
Between  mouthfuls  she  epitomized  the  contents  of  the  letter, 
a  proceeding  that  she  punctuated  with  caustic  exclamations. 
At  the  end,  Harry  Kelly  expressed  much  sympathy  with 
Janet's  predicament. 

"She  has  made  her  bed;  she'll  have  to  lie  in  it,"  said 
Cornelia. 

This  was  a  far  cry  from  the  line  Cornelia  used  to  take 
when  she  told  Janet  that  "marriage  is  either  a  vulgar  sex 
deal  or  a  legalized  debauch;"  or  when  she  declared  in 
lyrical  accents  that  "a  free  union  is  the  golden  key  to  the 
garden  of  spiritual  love."  Her  sentiments  on  this  subject 
had  undergone  dilution  since  Harry  Kelly  with  his  athletic 
build,  fair  prospects,  and  standing  offer  of  marriage  had 
become  a  fixture  in  Number  Fifteen. 

But  then  Cornelia  had  never  really  had  the  courage  of 
her  radical  opinions.  Beneath  her  advocacy  of  new  forms 
of  sex  relationships  there  lurked  a  strong  affection  for  the 
old  forms.  Essentially,  her  instincts  fitted  her  for  the 
orderly  virtuous  days  of  bustles  and  bust  pads,  not  for  these 
latter  days  in  which  established  conventions  were  being 
summarily  overhauled.  For  her,  the  time  was  decidedly 
out  of  joint. 

It  had  been  so  since  her  affair  with  Percival  Houghton, 
the  artist  who  had  "stolen  her  soul."  This  affair  had  been 
an  accident  of  conduct  and  circumstances,  and  not,  as  she 
always  declared,  a  logical  outcome  of  her  character  and 
convictions.  And  it  was  as  a  result  of  this  accidental  episode 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  289 

that  she  was  now  an  irritable,  spiteful,  new-fangled  woman 
instead  of  the  old-fashioned  wife  and  mother  (of  seven 
children)  that  she  should  have  been. 

Some  dim  perception  of  all  this  stirred  in  the  head  of 
Harry  Kelly  the  ex-Harlem  Gorilla.  Kelly's  mentality  fell 
far  short  of  his  bodily  development.  Still,  he  was  no  fool, 
and  he  rightly  guessed  that  Cornelia  was  unfair  to  her 
former  protegee.  He  did  not  approve  of  Janet's  flight  with 
Claude.  But  he  had  seen  too  much  of  life  in  the  Lorillard 
tenements  to  be  easily  scandalized.  Moreover,  his  fondness 
for  Janet  disposed  him  to  put  the  blame,  if  any,  on  her 
lover.  Like  many  amiable  persons,  he  reserved  his  moral 
censure  exclusively  for  people  he  did  not  know  or  did  not 
like. 

"The  poor  kid's  down  on  her  luck,"  he  ventured  gingerly. 
"It's  not  up  to  us  to  hurry  the  post-mortem." 

"Down  on  her  luck!  With  a  man  like  Claude  at  her 
side?"  cried  Cornelia,  the  words  curving  by  slow  ascent  to 
an  unmusical  top  note. 

"Claude's  a  grand  looking  man,  that's  true.  But  I've 
known  many  a  grand  looking  man  who  was  no  better 
than  a  four-flusher  when  you  had  to  share  your  bunk 
with  him." 

"Poor  Hercules,  what  do  you  know  about  it?  If  Claude 
was  a  rotter,  she  should  have  left  him.  In  all  decency, 
she  should  have  left  him  the  moment  she  saw  that  her 
passion  was  merely  physical.  What  has  she  done?  Nothing. 
They  are  still  together  on  the  most  intimate  terms." 

Kelly  put  his  arm  soothingly  round  her  waist.  It  was 
a  privilege  she  had  allowed  him  in  the  dull  days  of  late  — 
though  not  often  and  always  grudgingly. 


290  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"I  don't  suppose  she's  going  to  have  a  child,"  she  went 
on,  in  a  bitter  tone,  "yet  that  would  be  her  one  solid  happi- 
ness. She's  too  selfish,  I  fear.  Look  how  idiotically  fate 
deals  out  the  cards.  She  could  have  a  child,  but  she  doesn't 
want  one,  while  I  want  one  so  much,  but  — " 

It  was  a  generous  hiatus,  and  her  voice  softened  as  she 
approached  it.  She  was  forever  telling  men  that  she  wanted 
a  child  of  her  own;  they  were  usually  embarrassed  or 
piqued  by  the  information;  and  whatever  the  effect  she 
enjoyed  it. 

For  once,  Kelly  was  not  nonplussed.  He  drew  his  arm 
tighter. 

"Listen,  sweetheart,"  he  said,  sentimentally,  "what's  to 
prevent  it?  I  want  kiddies,  too." 

"Do  you  indeed,"  said  Cornelia,  with  a  dangerous  light 
in  her  eyes.  "I  said  I  wanted  a  child.  The  difficulty  is 
that  I  don't  want  the  father  for  it." 

"Why  not,  if  we're  married?"  he  proceeded  with  unex- 
ampled obstinacy.  "I'd  rather  follow  Janet  than  go  on 
being  tormented  like  this,"  he  concluded,  drawing  the  long 
bow  at  a  venture. 

She  withdrew  from  him  and  rose,  her  cheeks  parading 
an  angry  red.  Ordinarily,  a  look  was  enough  to  make  him 
quail,  but,  lo  and  behold,  he  was  marching  with  unprece- 
dented independence  to  the  door.  And  how  could  Cornelia 
know  that  his  body  went  hot  and  cold  by  turns  for  fear 
that  she  would  let  him  walk  out? 

She  could  not  afford  to  lose  him,  so  she  called  him  back. 

"Here,  goose!"  she  cried,  coming  swiftly  down  from  her 
high  horse.  "Here's  Janet's  letter.  You'd  better  read  it 
through  before  you  quarrel  with  me  about  it." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  291 

He  took  it  happily  and  obediently,  she  getting  little 
pleasure  from  such  an  easy  victory. 

While  he  read  it,  she  reflected  once  more  that  she  could 
not  afford  to  lose  him.  She  set  small  store  by  his  doglike 
devotion  and,  though  he  had  recently  obtained  an  excellent 
position  as  physical  trainer  in  a  fashionable  men's  club, 
she  considered  him  vastly  beneath  her.  That  he  was  physi- 
cally a  veritable  Borghese  Warrior  was  wholly  offset  by 
the  fact  that  he  was  socially  little  better  than  a  superior 
handicraftsman.  In  her  eyes,  that  is  to  say,  he  had  his 
points,  but  they  were  not  the  points  of  a  polished  gentle- 
man. 

Yet  he  was  the  one  friend  left  to  her  in  Kips  Bay,  the 
one  friend  whose  constancy  to  her  was  undeviating  and 
unimpaired. 

Cornelia's  decline  from  glory  had  proceeded  rapidly  since 
the  departure  of  Janet.  The  renaissance  of  flat  Number 
Fifteen  as  the  social  and  artistic  center  of  the  Lorillard 
tenements  had  been  shortlived.  That  renaissance  (which 
Cornelia  tried  to  believe  was  of  her  own  making)  had 
really  begun  with  Janet's  advent.  While  it  lasted,  the 
Outlaws  and  their  cohorts  had  paraded  back,  with  all 
flags  flying,  and  had  restored  the  flat  to  the  pinnacle  of 
importance  which  it  had  occupied  when  Cornelia,  in  the  full 
flush  of  the  Percival  Houghton  notoriety,  had  first  settled 
down  in  Kips  Bay.  For  a  brief  space  Cornelia,  glittering 
like  the  morning  star,  had  been  "the  first  lady  of  the  model 
tenements,"  and  had  tasted  again  what  she  called  life, 
splendor,  joy. 

But  Janet  had  gone,  and  Claude  had  gone  with  her.  As 
a  direct  consequence  of  Janet's  flight,  Robert  had  more  and 


292  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

more  often  invented  excuses  for  absenting  himself  from  the 
Lorillard  flats.  Charlotte  Beecher's  visits  ceased  as  soon 
as  Robert's  did,  and  Denman  Page's  as  soon  as  Charlotte 
Beecher's.  In  its  turn,  the  loss  of  Claude  deflected  a  whole 
galaxy  of  feminine  stars,  including  Lydia  Dyson  at  the  top 
of  the  scale  and  Mazie  Ross  at  the  bottom.  And  so  on, 
ad  infinitum. 

Thus,  almost  in  a  week,  the  brilliance  of  Number  Fif- 
teen had  been  extinguished.  Forever,  or  so  Cornelia  feared. 
True,  her  queenly  state  had  ended  in  a  burst  of  radiance, 
as  a  sky-rocket  ends  in  a  dazzling  shower  of  gold.  But 
this  was  cold  comfort  at  best.  Cornelia  knew  that,  without 
some  novel  attraction,  there  was  no  hope  whatever  of  recap- 
turing the  fickle  homage  of  the  model  tenementers.  And 
no  such  attraction  was  in  sight.  For  once,  no  other  adven- 
turous young  lady  was  ready  or  eager  to  step  into  Janet's 
shoes  as  Janet  had  stepped  into  those  of  Mazie  Ross.  Cor- 
nelia's stock  had  fallen  to  its  nadir. 

She  felt  deserted.  In  a  mood  of  bitter,  unreasoning  re- 
sentment, she  gave  Janet  full  credit  for  dimming  the  splen- 
dor of  Number  Fifteen,  the  splendor  she  had  never  given 
her  any  credit  for  enkindling. 

She  was  very  angry  with  Janet  on  another  score.  This 
adventurous  young  lady,  after  a  gorgeously  romantic  time 
abroad  with  Claude  Fontaine,  had  apparently  come  a  crop- 
per, as  her  tirade  against  free  love  sufficiently  betrayed. 
Reading  between  the  lines,  Cornelia  fancied  that  she  de- 
tected a  veiled  reproach.  It  was  as  if  she  were  being  held 
responsible  for  pointing  out  the  step  that  had  landed  the 
writer  in  disaster.  Cornelia  repudiated  this  responsibility 
and  was  intensely  irritated  by  the  reproach. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  293 

What,  hadn't  she  and  Janet  threshed  out  the  whole  ques- 
tion of  sex  in  the  most  open  and  aboveboard  fashion?  And 
hadn't  she  drawn  a  sharp  line  between  free  love  as  she  sin- 
cerely advocated  it  for  the  sake  of  a  woman's  rights,  and 
free  love  as  it  was  practiced  among  the  Outlaws  and  in 
Greenwich  Village  for  the  sake  of  a  woman's  pleasure  or 
gain?  She  had  told  Janet  (and  told  it  with  some  feeling) 
that  many  young  women  nowadays  regarded  free  love  as 
simply  a  very  convenient  antidote  against  man's  growing 
disinclination  for  matrimony.  It  was  a  new  bait  for  the 
old  trap,  and  a  very  successful  bait,  too,  as  numberless 
marriages  growing  out  of  free  unions  attested.  In  Green- 
wich Village  marriageable  girls  used  this  bait  by  instinct; 
in  Kips  Bay  they  used  it  with  cool  professional  dexterity, 
as  a  surgeon  uses  a  knife. 

For  Janet  to  insinuate  that  she  had  been  taken  in,  was 
a  trifle  strong.  If  she  had  been  duped  at  all,  she  was  self- 
duped.  And  was  this  likely?  The  curve  of  contempt  in 
Cornelia's  lips  indicated  her  belief  to  the  contrary.  There 
was  such  a  thing  as  carrying  a  pose  of  artless  inexperience 
too  far.  And  what  did  Janet  mean  by  all  this  talk  of 
casting  Claude  off?  Casting  Claude  off,  indeed  1  What 
was  she  really  up  to? 

Harry  Kelly,  having  finished  the  letter,  now  handed  it 
back. 

"Janet's  getting  a  bit  flighty,"  he  remarked  with  true 
male  cynicism.  "Seems  to  me  Claude  has  got  somebody  else 
on  a  string." 

Cornelia  gave  a  scornful  laugh. 

"Don't  be  an  idiot,  Hercules,"  she  said.  "More  likely, 
Janet  has  got  somebody  else  on  a  string." 


294  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Kelly  held  his  peace.  Like  King  Lear's  daughter,  he 
adored  and  was  silent:  his  love  was  mightier  than  his 
tongue. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 


By  the  time  Cornelia's  answer  reached  Paris,  Claude  had 
taken  Janet  to  Brussels.  The  immediate  cause  of  this  move 
was  a  stringency  in  Claude's  funds.  A  brief  and  somewhat 
acrid  correspondence  between  father  and  son  had  followed 
hard  on  the  latter's  international  adventure.  After  much 
shilly-shallying  on  Claude's  part,  Mr.  Fontaine  had  laid 
down  the  terms  on  which  alone  he  proposed  to  continue 
polite  relations. 

Mr.  Fontaine  proceeded  on  the  theory  that  in  some  cases 
the  most  effective  sort  of  moral  force  is  material  force.  He 
did  not  demand  that  Claude  abandon  Janet,  although  this 
was  the  goal  of  his  desire.  He  simply  made  it  emphatic 
that  until  his  son  did  leave  Janet,  the  old  days  of  indepen- 
dence coupled  with  generous  financial  supplies  were  over. 

Meanwhile,  he  made  a  point  of  thwarting  Claude  at 
every  turn.  Claude  longed  for  leisure  and  also  for  a  fairly 
free  hand  with  the  Fontaine  Company's  bankers  in  Europe; 
Mr.  Fontaine  offered  him  definite  work  at  a  far  from 
princely  salary.  Claude  wanted  to  travel  (as  heretofore) 
in  the  role  of  a  commanding  member  of  the  firm;  Mr. 
Fontaine  allowed  him  no  choice  but  a  paltry  assistancy  to 
one  of  Fontaine's  European  agents.  Claude  vastly  pre- 
ferred the  conspicuous  agency  in  Paris,  if  an  agency  he 
had  to  be  reduced  to;  Mr.  Fontaine  detailed  him  peremp- 
torily to  the  humble  agency  in  Brussels.  And  so  on. 


296  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Clearly,  Mr.  Fontaine  believed  that  a  series  of  pin  pricks, 
tirelessly  administered  here  and  there,  would  serve  his 
purpose  much  better  than  a  dagger  inserted  under  the 
fifth  rib. 

Claude,  having  some  means  of  his  own,  planned  a  sum- 
mary rejection  of  his  father's  terms.  But  his  available 
funds  were  pitifully  inadequate  to  his  tastes  and  habits. 
It  was  in  vain  that  Janet  threw  herself  sturdily  into  the 
task  of  retrenchment.  She  lacked  experience;  and  as  for 
Claude,  he  was  born  to  the  purple  and  had  inherited  the 
aristocratic  idea  that  economy  consists  in  making  lesser 
people  do  the  saving.  He  could  not  refrain  from  living  on 
a  handsome  scale  or  from  entertaining  his  Parisian  friends  at 
costly  parties.  The  day  of  atonement  drew  swiftly  nearer. 

And  came  in  due  course.  All  his  pecuniary  sins  were 
visited  upon  him  at  one  and  the  same  inopportune  moment 
(when  ordering  a  dinner  at  the  Ritz  in  honor  of  the 
Prince  de  Cluny).  At  that  moment  he  experienced  the 
novel  sensation  of  finding  himself  suddenly  without  a  single 
penny  of  credit.  Had  the  ground  been  abruptly  withdrawn 
from  his  feet,  the  shock  could  not  have  been  greater. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  an  immediate  acceptance 
of  the  terms  on  which  his  father  had  proposed  a  truce. 
The  Brussels  agency  was  in  charge  of  a  hard-headed  Wal- 
loon between  whom  and  Claude  little  love  was  lost.  The 
pin  pricks  were  warranted  to  do  their  work  to  a  nicety. 

Thus  it  was  that  in  no  very  amiable  frame  of  mind  Claude 
set  foot  in  the  Belgian  capital  and  reported  to  the  Fontaine 
agent  there.  Janet  shared  his  contracted  fortunes,  accom- 
panying him  from  Paris  in  spite  of  a  series  of  quarrels 
which  had  chequered  the  weeks  preceding  their  departure. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  297 

She  accused  herself  of  weakness  for  remaining  with 
Claude.  But  she  felt  she  could  hardly  leave  him  when  he 
was  so  completely  down  on  his  luck.  True,  their  quarrels 
furnished  her  with  a  pretext,  but  not  with  a  worthy  one. 
They  were  all  in  the  nature  of  petty  bickerings,  trumpery 
matters  seemingly  unrelated  to  the  real  issue. 

But  she  began  to  suspect  that  the  real  issue  between  her- 
self and  Claude  would  never  be  brought  into  the  open. 

II 

Their  hotel  was  in  the  aristocratic  Quartier  Leopold. 
Scarcely  a  year  had  elapsed  since  the  armistice  was  pro- 
claimed, yet  the  Boulevard  Anspach  and  other  central  high- 
ways were  again  the  glittering  rendezvous  of  international 
idlers  indefatigably  bent  on  expunging  the  last  unpleasant 
memories  of  Armageddon.  This  expunging  process  ap- 
peared to  involve  the  consumption  of  much  bad  food  and 
the  production  of  much  loud  noise. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  his  seventh  day  in  Brussels, 
Claude  was  awakened  by  the  penetrating  backfire  of  a  motor 
car  in  the  street.  Having  already  been  aroused  by  distur- 
bances twice,  he  sprang  from  one  of  the  twin  beds  hi  the 
room  and  closed  each  window  with  a  furious  bang.  Janet, 
in  the  other  bed,  changed  from  her  right  side  to  her  left, 
but  was  too  deep  in  sleep  to  wake  up. 

"Damnation!"  he  called  out,  first  towards  the  street  and 
then,  as  this  bore  no  fruit,  in  the  direction  of  the  occupied 
bed. 

Getting  no  response  he  stalked  to  the  sleeper's  side. 

"How  can  a  man  get  any  rest,"  he  shouted  angrily, 


298  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"with  pandemonium  in  the  streets  and  every  window  in  the 
place  wide  open?" 

The  world  in  general  showed  no  interest  in  this  conun- 
drum propounded  by  a  very  good-looking  young  man  in 
pajamas.  And  Janet,  after  stirring  uneasily  for  a  moment, 
returned  to  a  motionless  slumber.  The  street  noises  had 
kept  her,  as  well  as  Claude,  awake  until  the  small  hours 
of  the  morning.  Once  asleep,  however,  she  slept  soundly 
and  could  defy  Bedlam. 

Seeing  no  prospect  of  petting  or  sympathy  from  this 
quarter,  Claude  nursed  his  anger  to  leviathan  size.  He 
paced  the  room  like  a  madman,  distributing  a  liberal  supply 
of  imprecations  on  everything  and  everybody  as  fast  as 
the  images  raced  into  his  thoughts.  This  proceeding  relieved 
him  of  a  part  of  his  fury.  The  rest  he  sublimated  in  the 
act  of  tidying  up  the  room. 

He  went  at  this  task  with  breakneck  speed.  His  method 
was  to  set  chairs  and  tables  in  and  out  of  place  with 
vicious  thumps;  then  to  pile  books,  newspapers,  brushes, 
combs,  wearing  apparel  and  the  like  into  roughly  classi- 
fied heaps.  He  took  special  pains  to  pick  up  Janet's  scat- 
tered articles  of  underwear  and  to  fling  each  one  on  top 
of  the  last  with  the  force  of  an  invective. 

Under  this  steady  percussion  and  repercussion,  Janet 
finally  woke  up. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  murmured  drowsily,  pushing 
the  rebellious  dark  curls  from  her  face. 

Claude  bombarded  her  with  reproaches. 

"The  matter!  The  matter  is  that  you  have  the  nerves 
of  a  rhinoceros.  I  can't  sleep  with  the  windows  open, 
while  you  could  sleep  with  them  shut.  But  it  means 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  299 

nothing  to  you  that  I  haven't  slept  a  wink  for  seven  nights 
running,  just  because  you  insist  upon  keeping  the  windows 
open." 

(Janet's  hands  gestured:  "Oh  dear,  another  tempest  in 
a  teapot  1")  She  sat  up  in  bed  and,  with  her  feet  tucked 
under  her  and  her  hands  folded  over  her  knees,  braced 
herself  for  the  storm. 

"I  thought  we  agreed  to  compromise  by  changing  off," 
she  said  mildly.  "The  windows  have  only  been  kept  open 
every  other  night." 

"Compromise!  Compromise!"  He  sprang  from  his  chair 
with  a  violent  laugh.  "How  can  oil  and  water  compro- 
mise?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  I'm  not  a  chemist.  They  don't 
mix,  but  they  may  get  along  very  amicably  together  side 
by  side,  for  all  I  can  tell.  What  difference  does  it  make, 
anyway?  The  real  trouble  is  that  you've  been  made  nerv- 
ous and  irritable  by  your  father's  letters.  If  you'd  only 
let  us  talk  the  whole  matter  over  sensibly  and  in  good 
humor  — " 

"My  father's  letters  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  case," 
he  cut  in  savagely.  "The  trouble  is  with  your  idiotic  super- 
stition that  the  sooty,  dusty  air  from  the  street  is  more 
important  than  peace  and  quiet." 

"What  is  the  use  of  saying  the  same  thing  over  and 
over,"  said  Janet,  with  a  touch  of  asperity  in  her  clear,  soft 
tones.  "You  are  in  a  perfectly  childish  temper,  Claude. 
If  I  were  your  wife  I'd  have  to  put  up  with  it.  As  I  don't 
have  to,  I  won't." 

"My  wife!  If  you  were  my  wife,  you  wouldn't  dare  to 
be  so  selfish,  or  to  ignore  my  rights  so  shamelessly." 


300  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Luckily,  I'm  not  your  wife." 

"No,  thank  Heaven.  It's  also  lucky  that  you're  so  well 
satisfied  with  your  limitations  and  your  sorry  future.  Like 
all  the  Barrs  of  Brooklyn,  you  may  well  glory  in  your 
irresponsibility.  It's  all  you  have." 

"Oh,  I  have  my  freedom.  I  glory  in  that,  too.  If  I 
were  married  to  you,  I  dare  say  I  should  have  to  cringe 
and  even  ask  your  forgiveness.  As  it  is,  before  this  day  is 
over,  you  will  probably  ask  mine." 

"Don't  flatter  yourself!  I'm  going  for  good.  That'll 
spike  your  prophecy." 

He  began  to  dress  posthaste  in  order  to  put  time  and 
space  between  his  threat  and  its  retraction. 

Janet  watched  him  through  the  long  dark  lashes  of  her 
half-closed  gray  eyes.  He  was  spoilt,  tyrannical,  con- 
temptible. Yet  his  energetic  masculine  beauty  and  the 
seductive  ring  of  his  voice  still  had  power  over  her. 

"Don't  imagine  I  can't  see  through  your  game,"  he  flung 
out,  recklessly  scattering  the  heaps  he  had  so  painfully 
assembled,  in  a  frenzied  search  for  a  necktie.  "Your  fine 
pretense  of  not  wanting  to  marry  me  is  a  clever  way  of 
getting  me  to  do  it.  Exceedingly,  overwhelmingly  clever! 
But  it  hasn't  fooled  me.  Not  a  bit!  There  are  some  things 
I  don't  swallow." 

"Thank  goodness.  Perhaps  you  won't  swallow  me  then, 
though  you  seem  on  the  point  of  doing  so." 

She  lay  down  again.  Her  averted  face  permitted  only 
her  dark  curly  head  to  show. 

"I  might  have  married  you,"  he  shouted,  brandishing 
the  recovered  necktie  at  the  bed.  "I  might,  if  you  hadn't 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  301 

shown  yourself  in  your  true  colors.  Thank  God,  I  found 
you  out  in  time." 

"Yet  you  don't  seem  a  bit  pleased." 

"You  little  serpent!     Is  there  no  escaping  your  sting?" 

"A  minute  ago  I  was  a  rhinoceros,  now  I  am  a  serpent. 
A  pretty  swift  evolution,  isn't  it?  Of  course,  the  'Descent 
of  Woman'  would  beat  the  'Descent  of  Man'  all  hollow." 

And  she  turned  her  back  upon  him  contemptuously. 
Stung  by  her  disdain,  he  moderated  his  temper  somewhat 
and  said: 

"It  is  the  trick  of  women  to  put  men  subtly  in  the  wrong. 
You  fight,  but  you  never  fight  in  the  open.  You  send  us 
into  a  devil  of  a  temper,  and  slyly  perpetuate  the  quarrel 
until  you  can  make  capital  out  of  our  degraded  condition. 
Patient  Griseldas,  martyred  angels,  persecuted  saints!  If 
only  you'd  drop  the  pose  of  injured  innocence!" 

This  impassioned  speech  was  really  a  bid  for  a  truce. 
But  Janet,  her  heart  hardened,  lay  quite  still,  the  back  of 
her  head  expressing  defiance. 

The  silence  maddened  him  more  than  a  flood  of  re- 
proaches, and  he  continued  dressing  fortissimo.  Finally, 
he  reached  for  his  hat,  sending  her,  at  the  same  time,  a 
parting  shot. 

"Keep  it  up,"  he  said,  "and  you'll  be  a  past  mistress  in 
the  art  of  demoralizing  a  man." 

He  went  out  with  a  spectacular  exhibition  of  bad 
manners. 

Poor  Claude!  He  did  not  feel  entirely  guiltless.  But  he 
was  absolutely  certain  that  the  fault  lay  vastly  more  on 
her  side  than  on  his.  In  the  breviary  of  love,  he  had  pledged 


302  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

his  soul  to  an  eternity  of  devotion,  but  not  his  temper  to 
a  five  minutes'  trial. 

Ill 

The  door  had  scarcely  been  closed  before  Janet  turned 
out  of  bed  and  began  to  put  on  her  stockings.  She  got  no 
further  than  the  first  one  before  she  heard  returning  foot- 
steps. Quick  as  a  flash  she  resumed  her  former  position  in 
bed,  so  that  when  the  door  opened,  her  face  was  buried  in 
the  pillows  and  the  back  of  her  head  was  one  obstinate, 
unconciliatory  curve. 

Claude  had  come  back  on  the  pretext  of  getting  his 
walking  stick,  really  in  the  hope  of  finding  Janet  penitent 
or  at  least  willing  to  placate  him.  When  he  saw  that  all 
the  advances  would  have  to  come  from  his  side,  he  turned 
sharply  on  his  heels  and  marched  out,  in  his  anger  forget- 
ting his  cane. 

Janet  now  waited  until  she  was  sure  that  he  had  gone 
in  good  earnest.  Then  she  finished  dressing,  reflecting  the 
while  that  for  the  third  time  within  a  week  she  was  left 
quite  alone.  It  was  the  discord  that  troubled  her,  not  the 
solitude.  Solitude  had  no  terrors  for  her,  although  it  had 
a  drawback  of  a  practical  sort. 

Namely,  in  the  matter  of  the  language.  She  was  almost 
totally  ignorant  of  French,  her  opportunities  in  Paris  for 
acquiring  the  vernacular  having  been  extremely  few.  She 
knew  that  Claude  expected  his  absence  to  make  a  virtual 
prisoner  of  her.  In  fact,  with  this  punishment  in  view,  he 
had  stayed  away  until  late  at  night  on  the  two  occasions 
of  their  recent  quarreling.  And  she  did  not  doubt  that 
he  meant  to  punish  her  in  the  same  manner  again. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  303 

She  went  downstairs  to  breakfast  full  of  pity  for  herself 
and  of  indignation  against  Claude. 

Breakfast  changed  her  mood  completely.  It  occurred  to 
her  that  Claude  might  feel  the  discord  between  them  as 
keenly  as  she  did,  though  he  might  not  be  as  conscious  of 
the  reasons.  This  led  her  to  feel  sorry  for  him  and  to 
wonder  whether  she  might  not  have  been  more  conciliatory. 

Her  nature  was  so  essentially  sound  that  she  was  inclined 
to  look  on  Claude's  outbursts  of  rage  as  symptoms  of  a 
mental  disorder.  She  told  herself  that  her  equable  temper 
gave  her  an  immense  advantage  over  him,  an  advantage  she 
ought  not  to  exploit  too  far. 

It  was  Robert  who  had  first  made  her  conscious  of  the 
worth  of  her  well-poised  temperament,  not  to  mention  other 
good  qualities  which  had  seemed  as  inevitably  her  own  as 
her  two  arms  and  two  legs.  Lately,  since  realizing  what 
a  surprisingly  large  number  of  people  were  ill-humored  and 
bad  tempered,  she  had  begun  to  prize  her  even-mindedness 
for  the  rare  gift  it  was. 

Her  self-esteem  improving,  her  spirits  followed  suit.  It 
was  too  fine  a  day  to  spend  indoors.  And,  Claude  or  no 
Claude,  she  made  up  her  mind  to  gratify  a  desire  to 
wander  through  the  fashionable  shopping  district. 

She  bethought  herself  of  a  pocket  English-French  dic- 
tionary, and  a  little  "Colloquial  French  in  Ten  Lessons," 
which  she  had  picked  up  at  Brentano's  in  Paris.  Thus 
equipped,  she  sallied  out  on  an  adventurous  journey  in 
the  direction  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

Her  course  from  the  Quartier  Leopold  to  the  Boulevard 
Anspach  was  intentionally  zigzag.  Walking  leisurely  and 
observing  critically  she  was  able  to  confirm  or  correct 


304  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

impressions  of  the  capital  gathered  while  riding  with 
Claude  in  taxis  or  motor  busses. 

It  struck  her  that  Brussels  was  cleaner,  wholesomer  and 
more  competently  managed  than  either  New  York  or  Paris. 
Had  the  Bruxellois  taken  a  leaf  out  of  the  book  of  Prus- 
sian efficiency  or  were  they  a  more  competently  executive 
people? 

Brussels  was,  of  course,  much  smaller  than  Paris,  less 
ostentatiously  "grand"  or  "cosmopolitan."  Janet  did  not 
agree  with  the  orthodox  tourist  opinion  that  the  Belgian 
capital  was  merely  a  pocket  edition  of  the  Gallic.  Brussels 
was  lively  without  being  chaotic,  and  picturesque  without 
being  dirty.  Paris,  on  the  other  hand,  was  in  some  respects 
a  very  American  city.  Its  Rue  Royales,  Champs  Elysees, 
Faubourg  St.  Germains  and  other  show  sections  were  per- 
haps more  numerous  and  certainly  more  beautiful  than  the 
corresponding  show  sections  in  New  York.  But  apart  from 
these  picked  quarters,  Paris  and  New  York  had  the  same 
tawdry  glitter,  the  same  rag-bag  dishevelment,  the  same 
noisy,  neurotic  people,  the  same  morbid  chase  after 
pleasure. 

These  results  of  modern  civilization  seemed  by  no  means 
entirely  missing  from  Brussels,  but  they  existed  in  a 
smaller  degree,  even  in  proportion  to  the  city's  size.  Life 
on  the  streets  of  Brussels  still  had  an  appearance  of  being 
orderly,  sane.  You  could  walk  along  the  main  thorough- 
fares without  the  sensation  that  you  were  steering  your 
way  through  scurrying,  erratic,  homicidal  pedestrians.  In 
a  crowd  in  New  York  or  Paris  you  might  well  become  a 
prey  to  the  fear  that  Darwin  was  right,  after  all,  and  that 
the  evolution  of  man  was  guided  chiefly  by  the  principle 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  305 

of  chance,  Nature  being  a  sort  of  brute  Junker  force  which 
imposed  Kultur  on  the  survivors. 

With  these  reflections,  Janet  sailed  along,  and  though 
remembrance  of  the  quarrel  with  Claude  gave  her  an  occa- 
sional sinking  feeling,  this  was  but  the  ground  swell  after 
the  storm. 


IV 

At  the  Grands  Magasins  de  la  Bourse,  Janet  experienced 
little  difficulty  in  making  several  minor  purchases.  Not 
because  she  had  memorized  a  score  of  colloquial  questions 
and  answers  from  her  little  book,  "French  Guaranteed  in 
Ten  Lessons."  For  the  questions  and  answers  which  she 
had  conned  so  trippingly  from  the  text  were  amazingly 
inapplicable  to  her  needs.  In  the  realm  of  trade  or  barter 
the  phrases  she  needed  always  called  for  a  subtly  different 
twist  from  the  high-flown  phrases  in  the  text-book.  The 
book  model  advised  her  to  say:  "Sir  (or  Madam),  have 
the  kindness  to  direct  me  to  the  street  by  which  one  may 
proceed  to  the  Rue  Roy  ale."  She  actually  wanted  to  say: 
"What's  a  good  short-cut  to  the  Rue  Royale?"  But  as  to 
this  racier  version  the  text-book  was  mute. 

These  difficulties  proved  no  insuperable  barrier  to  Janet. 
A  glance,  an  eloquent  gesture,  and  a  copious  use  of  the 
phrase  comme  c.a,  bridged  the  worst  gaps  in  the  course  of 
communication.  Comme  fa  alone,  used  at  the  end  of  the 
index  finger,  so  to  speak,  worked  wonders.  Single-handed, 
it  was  mightier  than  a  whole  battalion  of  text-book  phrases. 
Yet  Janet  flattered  herself  that  she  could,  at  a  pinch,  have 
dispensed  even  with  this  omnipotent  demonstrative.  To  be 


306  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

sure,  she  was  far  swifter  at  divining  other  people's  wishes 
than  at  getting  her  own  wishes  divined.  Still,  though  she 
had  a  genius  for  the  first  process,  she  had  at  least  a  talent 
for  the  second. 

"It  would  be  strange,"  she  thought,  "if  a  New  Yorker 
could  not  talk  inarticulately  in  more  languages  than  one." 

The  shop  assistants  met  her  attempts  to  communicate 
with  them  fully  halfway.  Their  friendliness  and  courtesy 
in  difficult  situations  astonished  her.  So  did  their  efforts 
to  comply  with  her  precise  wishes. 

It  was  all  very  different  from  the  American  shop  men 
and  girls  that  she  was  accustomed  to.  A  New  York  sales- 
man, who  slept  in  a  hall  room  in  the  Bronx  and  lunched  at 
Child's,  on  a  ham  sandwich  and  tea  or  on  griddle  cakes  and 
skimmed  milk,  was  professionally  .guiltless  of  every  effort 
save  one,  and  that  was  an  effort  to  convey  to  each  cus- 
tomer a  sense  of  the  latter ?s  abysmal  insignificance;  also 
an  intimation  of  his  supreme  good  luck  in  being  waited  on 
by  the  most  distinguished  clerk  in  the  metropolis. 

Standing  at  a  counter  in  New  York,  one  might  be  ex- 
cused for  supposing  that  the  salesman  accepted  the  pur- 
chaser's custom  only  as  a  grudging  favor  to  the  purchaser. 
Standing  at  a  similar  spot  in  Brussels,  one  might  hope  that 
the  favor  would  be  allowed  to  be  the  other  way. 

Perhaps  the  Brussels  salesmen  did  not  really  feel  favored. 
In  view  of  the  final  disposition  of  the  profits,  they  probably 
merely  pretended  to  feel  so.  If  this  was  the  case,  their 
pretense  carried  conviction,  by  virtue  of  the  artistry  of 
their  politeness.  Were  there  not,  then,  as  many  fictions  in 
the  life  of  New  York  as  in  the  life  of  Brussels?  Yes,  but 
they  were  neither  convincing  fictions  nor  polite  ones. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  307 

Artistry  and  politeness,  Janet  concluded,  though  they 
might  be  minor  virtues,  were  not  the  minor  virtues  of  an 
industrial  republic. 

Her  last  errand  in  the  Grand  Magasins  was  to  buy 
Claude  several  pair  of  socks.  The  redoubtable  comme  $a, 
in  a  choice  variety  of  modulations,  did  yeoman  service  in 
facilitating  the  selection  of  the  correct  color,  quality, 
size. 

She  was  sure  Claude  did  not  deserve  the  pains  she  was 
taking  over  him,  particularly  in  view  of  his  conduct  that 
morning.  But  Janet's  indignation  had  failed  to  blot  from 
her  mind  a  picture  of  the  night  before  at  bedtime,  when 
Claude  had  pathetically  drawn  attention  to  the  spectacle 
of  both  his  great  toes  protruding  rudely  from  the  tips  of 
his  socks.  This  picture  of  Claude  walking  about  Brussels 
with  protruding  toes  offended  her  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things.  And,  as  she  did  not  believe  that  the  fitness  of 
things  should  be  tempered  with  revenge,  she  made  the 
necessary  purchases  without  pluming  herself  on  her  mag- 
nanimity. 

Parcels  in  hand,  she  came  close  to  a  section  set  apart 
by  a  low  railing.  A  somewhat  depressed  looking  woman  in 
front  of  the  railing  was  talking  humbly  to  a  magnificent 
young  man  behind  it.  From  a  sign  which  read  Bureau 
d'Emploi,  Janet  guessed  that  this  was  the  section  in  which 
applications  for  employment  were  received. 

If  only  she  knew  the  language  well  enough  to  apply  for  a 
position  herself,  what  a  lot  of  problems  this  would  solve  1 

The  magnificent  young  man,  who  was  patently  the  abso- 
lute monarch  of  the  section,  looked  disapprovingly  at  the 
somewhat  slatternly  applicant  who  was  abasing  herself 


308  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

before  him.  With  an  air  as  superb  as  his  sartorial  equip- 
ment, he  concluded  the  interview.  So  Cophetua  might 
have  concluded  an  interview  with  an  unavailable  beggar 
maid. 

The  dismissed  applicant  was  the  picture  of  dejection  as 
she  walked  past  Janet,  who  pitied  her  from  her  soul. 

Suddenly  Cophetua  saw  Janet. 

Was  she  a  lady  or  was  she  a  beggar  maid?  He  reasoned 
that  ladies  rarely  burden  their  arms  with  a  load  of  parcels, 
nor  were  they  in  the  habit  of  making  lingering  stops  in 
front  of  a  Bureau  d'Emploi.  On  the  other  hand,  the  object 
of  his  speculation  was  young,  supple,  well  dressed;  her 
gray  eyes  glancing  his  way  thrilled  him  as  no  salesgirl 
beggar-maid  had  ever  thrilled  him  before. 

Decidedly,  if  she  was  a  beggar  maid,  she  was  a  most 
uncommon  one.  Cophetua  saw  that  she  was  still  looking 
at  him,  not  artfully,  and  yet  not  disinterestedly  either.  The 
problem  was  disconcerting  and  insoluble;  the  call  of  the 
blood  was  peremptory  and  imperious. 

He  resolved  to  chance  it. 

Unbending  as  much  as  so  magnificent  a  young  man  could 
unbend,  he  called  out  to  Janet  in  a  most  inviting  tone. 

Alas,  she  couldn't  understand  a  single  word.  All  she 
could  catch  was  the  note  of  interrogation. 

"Je  ne  comprends  pas  jrangais  —  I'm  sorry,  but  I  don't 
understand,"  she  informed  him  in  polyglot.  She  wondered 
whether  he  could  possibly  be  offering  her  employment, 
although  she  doubted  this,  for  his  glances  were  far  from 
businesslike. 

Again  Cophetua  spoke,  more  slowly.  Yet  on  the  same 
suave,  interrogative  note.  He  eyed  her  with  immense  favor. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  309 

She  understood  his  looks;  and,  as  it  was  clearly  not  a  case 
for  the  use  of  her  pet  comme  qa,  she  lost  all  desire  to 
understand  his  words. 

Flushing  and  not  quite  knowing  what  to  make  of  it  all, 
she  prepared  to  walk  away,  discretion  seeming  to  be  the 
better  part  of  valor. 

"Can  I  be  of  assistance?"  said  a  gentleman  who  had 
suddenly  stopped  on  his  way  past  her. 

She  saw  a  short,  robust,  handsome  man  with  an  auburn 
beard  and  somewhat  darker  hair  faintly  tinged  with  gray. 
He  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed. 

"I  can  speak  a  little  English,"  he  said,  fluently  enough, 
though  to  Janet's  ears  the  accent  sounded  rather  German. 

Then  he  and  Cophetua  rapidly  exchanged  a  few  sentences 
hi  French.  From  the  latter's  frigid  manner,  nothing  was 
plainer  than  that  he  regarded  the  stranger's  mediation  with 
extreme  distaste. 

"He  merely  wishes  to  know  whether  you  are  seeking  a 
position,"  said  Janet's  self-appointed  interpreter. 

"How  could  I  be?  I  don't  know  a  word  of  the  language, 
as  you  can  see,"  she  said,  with  one  of  her  fascinating 
gestures. 

This  reply  was  duly  conveyed  to  the  chief  of  the  em- 
ployment bureau  who,  with  a  thousand  daggers  in  his 
parting  smile,  withdrew  majestically  into  his  shell. 

"It  is  impossible  to  know  the  reason  for  a  mistake  so 
deplorable,"  said  he  of  the  auburn  beard,  apologizing  for 
Cophetua. 

He  lifted  his  hat  again,  and  made  as  if  to  go.  But  he 
did  not  go. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  a  bit,"  said  Janet,  laughing  unaf- 


310  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

fectedly.  "If  only  I  knew  French,  I  should  like  nothing 
better  than  to  take  some  position  or  other." 

For  a  second,  they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  with 
mutual  approval.  Then  he  said  boldly: 

"In  that  case  —  would  you  like  to  be  —  what  do  the 
English  call  it  —  tutor  to  my  little  girl?" 

From  Cophetua,  looming  in  the  background,  came  mes- 
meric waves  of  hostility.  Sensing  this,  they  walked  away 
together.  He  gave  her  a  card  inscribed  with  the  name  of 
Anton  St.  Hilaire.  He  told  her  he  was  an  Alsatian,  a 
widower  with  one  child  of  about  fourteen  years.  His  wife 
had  died  during  his  absence  on  service  at  the  front.  His 
daughter  having  sickened,  he  had  been  to  Italy  with  her. 
Now  he  meant  to  make  a  long  stay  in  Brussels  in  order  to 
be  near  a  famous  specialist  for  children.  Later,  he  and 
Henriette  would  travel. 

Henriette  had  a  nurse  who  for  many  reasons  was  unsatis- 
factory. His  wish  had  long  been  to  place  the  child  in 
charge  of  a  cultivated  woman  who  should  be  a  friend  to 
her  rather  than  a  mere  attendant,  and  who  should  inspire 
him  with  entire  confidence.  After  a  few  not  very  searching 
questions,  he  professed  to  have  entire  confidence  in  Janet. 
He  waved  aside  as  immaterial  the  objection  in  respect  of 
Janet's  ignorance  of  French.  She  would  pick  up  French  as 
quickly  as  Henriette  picked  up  English.  Henriette  had 
already  had  some  English  instruction;  and  Janet,  for  her 
part,  had  no  doubt  of  her  ability  to  manage  the  child  as 
far  as  the  linguistic  difficulty  went.  Had  she  not  proved 
up  to  the  hilt  her  genius  for  making  foreigners  understand 
her  when  such  was  her  desire? 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  311 

"I  could  get  along  with  a  Choctaw,"  she  said  to  herself, 
exultantly. 

They  talked  as  they  proceeded  along  the  Boulevard 
Anspach.  The  long  and  the  short  of  it  was  that  Janet 
agreed  to  consider  the  offer.  She  promised  to  pay  a  visit 
next  day  to  M.  St.  Hilaire's  apartments  in  order  to  meet 
Henriette.  She  would  then  make  up  her  mind  whether  to 
take  the  position  or  not. 

Upon  this  understanding  the  Alsatian  left  her. 

Janet,  all  agog  with  her  adventure,  gave  up  shopping  for 
the  day. 

The  encounter  appeared  to  her  to  be  a  godsend. 

She  .liked  M.  St.  Hilaire.  If  she  also  liked  his  daughter, 
if  she  and  Henriette  took  to  each  other  enough  to  make  the 
proffered  place  attractive,  she  would  be  in  a  position  to 
part  company  with  Claude  immediately. 

As  she  had  a  strong  conviction  (backed  by  plenty  of 
experience)  that  she  could  get  along  with  any  halfway 
tolerable  human  being,  she  considered  the  step  as  good  as 
taken. 

True,  she  anticipated  a  bad  quarter  of  an  hour  in  having 
it  out  with  Claude.  But  what  a  jolly  thing  it  was  to  be  in 
possession  of  a  powerful  weapon  like  economic  independ- 
ence. It  was  the  last  argument  against  tyrants,  in  this 
case  against  Claude  and  the  special  set  of  circumstances 
that  made  her  absolutely  dependent  upon  him. 

She  wished  she  could  be  candid  with  Claude  and  tell  him 
all  about  the  Alsatian.  But  this  was  impossible.  Claude's 
capacity  for  candor  was  like  some  people's  capacity  for 
alcohol.  A  little  of  it  went  to  his  head  and  made  him 
quarrelsome. 


312  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

She  was  not  like  that!  She  could  stand  being  told  any 
amount  of  truth  (or  so  she  flattered  herself).  This  was 
why  so  many  people  made  her  their  confidante.  Having 
an  illusion  stripped  away  might  give  acute  pain,  but  it 
never  outraged  her.  Witness  her  disenchantment  with  the 
theory  of  free  love.  But  Claude,  in  common  with  most 
people,  was  like  the  famous  prisoner  who  had  spent  years 
in  a  dungeon  and  who,  when  released,  was  quite  over- 
powered by  the  fresh  air.  An  unusual  supply  of  truth  all 
but  killed  the  average  man. 

In  this  matter,  the  only  one  she  had  ever  met  like  herself 
was  Robert  Lloyd.  How  she  had  underestimated  Robert! 
Worse,  how  she  had  underestimated  the  strength  of  her 
attachment  to  him!  Her  partnership  with  Claude,  a  part- 
nership of  infatuation,  had  been  a  weak  thing.  A  breath 
had  made  it,  and  a  breath  had  blown  it  away.  But  her 
partnership  with  Robert,  a  partnership  of  work  and  mutual 
interests,  had  been  a  bond  of  adamant.  Time  could  not 
wither  it  nor  custom  stale  its  precious  memory. 

She  had  a  passionate  longing  to  write  Robert  and  pour 
out  her  heart  to  him  as  in  the  old  days  of  the  firm  of 
Barr  &  Lloyd. 

But  no.  This  would  never  do.  In  questions  of  sex, 
Robert  was  as  fanatic  as  any  average  American  business 
man.  The  scene  on  the  East  River  pier  came  back  to  her 
vividly.  There  he  had  stood  like  a  reincarnation  of  Cato 
the  Elder  (Cornelia's  nicknames  certainly  did  hit  the  bull's- 
eye  at  times!)  lecturing  her  and  saying: 

"I  sha'n't  have  anything  to  do  with  free  love  or  with  a 
woman  who  has  had  a  free  lover." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  313 

The  remembrance  caused  a  wave  of  bitter  feeling  to 
surge  through  her. 

By  this  time  she  had  reached  the  Place  Rogier.  There 
she  took  a  bus  to  the  office  of  the  American  Express  Com- 
pany in  order  to  inquire  for  mail.  The  one  letter  handed  to 
her  had  been  forwarded  from  Paris.  The  superscription 
was  in  Cornelia's  handwriting,  and  Janet  tore  open  the 
envelope  without  delay. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 

I 

As  was  her  custom,  Cornelia  had  written  in  a  decidedly 
lyrical  vein,  sounding  in  turn  the  strings  of  pathos,  mis- 
giving and  melancholy  sympathy.  Without  formal  saluta- 
tion the  letter  began: 

My  heart  is  torn  for  you,  Araminta  dearest,  as  I  follow 
the  story  of  your  wanderings.  It  is  a  story  that  reopens 
old  wounds,  for  hi  your  sufferings  I  again  experience  my 
own.  With  what  a  different  poignancy!  Different  as 
Claude  Fontaine  and  Percival  Houghton  are  different.  I 
know  that  Claude  possesses  the  supreme  fascination  that 
leads  so  many  women  to  throw  themselves  recklessly  into 
his  arms.  He  turns  their  heads;  but  at  least  he  does  not 
rob  them  of  their  souls.  This,  Percival  Houghton  did. 
Thank  your  kind  stars,  my  dear,  that  Claude  is  not  as 
Percival,  that  he  has  not  the  latter 's  dominating  will  or 
piratical  psychic  personality.  Your  soul  can  still  be  called 
your  own. 

How  I  pray  that  your  trials  may  turn  out  for  the  best! 
Araminta,  every  woman  is  fated  to  learn  at  the  hands  of 
some  man  how  unscrupulous  all  men  are  in  matters  of  sex. 
But  is  it  not  strange  that  men  should  outflag  us  at  what 
is  called  our  own  game,  and  that  women  should  let  them- 
selves be  deceived  by  the  fact  that  they  are  always  credited 
with  the  victory?  This  indeed  is  man's  greatest  cleverness. 
He  snatches  the  spoils  even  whilst  loudly  protesting  that 
we  have  him  completely  at  our  mercy.  Yes,  men  are  our 
masters  in  the  game  of  love,  the  game  that  is  said  to  be 
our  profession  and  their  pastime.  My  dear,  the  amateur 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  315 

who  gaily  calls  the  tune  has  a  much  better  time  of  it  than 
the  professional  who  is  compelled  to  do  the  fiddling — unless 
the  fiddler  plays  wholly  and  solely  for  love  or  is  clever 
enough  to  exact  a  price  insuring  freedom  after  the  dance 
is  over.  But  this  is  an  elementary  principle  which  I  need 
hardly  point  out  to  you,  Araminta. 

You  say  you  do  not  mean  to  marry  Claude,  although  you 
believe  it  lies  within  your  power  to  do  so.  At  the  same 
time,  you  speak  in  harsh  disparagement  of  free  unions.  To 
be  candid,  this  mystifies  me.  I  hope,  however,  that  I'm 
wrong  in  detecting,  beneath  your  criticism,  a  subtle  re- 
proach. If  I'm  right,  you've  done  me  a  grievous  injustice. 

Didn't  I  consistently  urge  that  free  love  is  for  daring 
and  devoted  spirits  only?  And  what  wonders  have  not 
the  bold  and  brave  done  for  our  sex  in  the  last  thirty  years! 
Look  how  the  market  value  of  men  has  fallen  and  how  the 
market  value  of  women  has  risen,  if  I  may  use  the  crude 
language  of  Mazie  Ross.  No  longer  do  women  live,  as  did 
our  grandmothers,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  "charming"  men 
or  of  sipping  the  nectar  of  their  "homage." 

Pray  observe,  dear  child,  that  I  never  decried  marriage 
in  the  case  of  the  few  women  who  are  strong  enough  to 
command  the  legal  tyrant  instead  of  submitting  to  him, 
and  who  thus  are  in  a  position  to  straighten  out  the  irra- 
tional knot  from  the  inside.  As  for  the  common  rule  of 
females,  if  they  will  go  on  flocking  to  the  altar  in  droves, 
if  they  will  be  infatuated  with  marriage  after  we  have 
opened  their  eyes  to  man  —  why,  let  them  rush  in  where 
angels  fear  to  tread.  And  let  them  take  the  consequences, 
too.  Small  blame  to  the  nuptial  fire  if  it  scorches  the  likes 
of  them.  Is  the  flame  guilty  because  the  moths  dash  in? 

But  now  for  the  news,  although  there  is  precious  little. 

First,  Lydia  Dyson  has  produced  a  new  novel  —  and  a 
new  baby.  You  know  she  lets  this  happen  (I  mean  the 
baby)  every  once  in  so  often  because  she  says  it  is  the 
only  way  to  keep  her  complexion  perfect.  (It  really  is  a 
perfect  olive,  in  spite  of  the  quantities  of  gold-tipped  ciga- 


316  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

rettes  she  smokes.)  The  baby,  like  its  predecessors,  has 
been  given  out  for  adoption  to  a  childless  couple  in  good 
circumstances,  Lydia  contending  (a  la  Rousseau)  that  an 
artist  makes  a  very  unsatisfactory  parent.  Lydia's  other 
achievement,  her  novel,  "The  Mother  Soul,"  has  been  run- 
ning serially  in  the  Good  Householder.  It's  netting  her 
the  usual  mint  of  money,  ten  thousand  dollars  down,  to 
say  nothing  of  copious  extras  in  the  shape  of  book  and 
dramatic  royalties. 

There's  Lydia  for  you,  flourishing  like  the  green  bay 
tree!  Not  like  your  poor  Cornelia,  who'd  be  happy  enough 
to  take  the  child  and  let  the  royalties  go. 

Robert  is  rarely  here  nowadays.  Charlotte  Beecher, 
therefore,  doesn't  show  up  often,  and  so,  what  with  you 
and  Claude  in  Europe,  I'd  be  monarch  of  all  I  surveyed, 
if  Hercules  didn't  take  pity  on  me  and  come  in  to  drive 
the  blue  devils  away.  He  spoils  me  almost  as  much  as  you 
did.  A  dear,  dutiful  boy  he  is,  as  fond  of  work  as  a  camel. 
I  feel  conscience-stricken  when  I  think  how  lightly  I  accept 
his  devotion.  Ought  I  to  make  him  happy?  Ah,  well-a- 
day!  I'm  sometimes  tempted — ah,  how  I'm  tempted! 

But  a  poor  soulless  thing  like  me  mustn't  think  of  such 
things. 

Harry's  prospects  have  improved  wonderfully  of  late. 
You  know  his  heart  was  never  in  professional  wrestling. 
He  deliberately  gave  up  a  promising  career  on  the  mat, 
as  they  call  it,  where  he  acquired  that  odious  nickname 
of  the  "Harlem  Gorilla."  Poor  Hercules  is  about  as  much 
like  a  gorilla  as  I  am  like  an  elephant.  Refusing  engage- 
ments to  appear  in  public  contests  brought  him  down  on 
his  luck  for  a  time.  That's  how  he  happened  to  land  in 
the  model  tenements.  He  never  was  even  the  least  bit  of 
a  radical.  Among  the  Outlaws,  our  gorilla  is  quite  a  lamb. 

Well,  this  repulsive  part  of  his  career  is  over  for  good. 
He  is  now  the  physical  director  of  the  Bankers'  Club. 
(What  think  you  of  my  prophetic  nickname  for  Her- 
cules? The  bankers  have  their  monster  clubhouse  on 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  317 

Fifth  Avenue,  almost  next  door  to  the  Pillars  of  Hercules, 
as  the  Gotham  and  St.  Regis  hotels  are  called.)  It's  a  good 
position.  And  an  even  better  one  is  in  sight.  The  Life 
Prolongation  Institute  (I  say,  Araminta,  what  a  name!) 
has  lately  approached  him  in  regard  to  a  post  at  one  of  its 
European  branches. 

Wouldn't  it  be  odd,  if  we  all  met  some  fine  morning  in 
Trafalgar  Square  or  the  Champs  Elysees? 

As  for  Robert,  he  has  become  as  mad  as  a  March  hare. 
His  Guild  League  seems  to  have  dropped  through  a  hole 
in  the  ground.  (I  predicted  that,  too!)  He  says  the 
Guildsman  propaganda  was  too  radical  for  the  old-style 
Laborites  and  too  conservative  for  the  Bolsheviks.  But  I 
can't  pretend  to  follow  these  distinctions. 

At  all  events,  he  was  very  much  at  loose  ends  for  a  while. 
One  or  two  excellent  openings  in  the  newspaper  line  he 
calmly  turned  down  with  the  remark  that  a  successful 
journalist  would  have  to  be  as  corrupt  as  Falstaff  and 
Hutchins  Burley  rolled  into  one.  He  is  really  quite  incor- 
rigible. He  never  seems  to  be  content  until  he  has  got 
himself  thoroughly  on  the  wrong  side  of  everybody  who 
might  be  of  service  to  him. 

There  are  any  number  of  instances  of  this  trait.  His 
personal  quarrel  with  Hutchins  Burley  was  quite  unneces- 
sarily lengthened  into  a  business  feud.  He  never  made  the 
most  of  his  friendship  with  Claude  (think  what  a  chance 
it  was  for  a  man  in  his  circumstances  to  be  intimate  with 
a  man  in  Claude's!).  He  got  himself  in  the  black  books 
of  the  whole  newspaper  world  because  of  his  agitation  for 
the  Guildsmen.  And  he  is  always  flinging  off  violently 
from  his  friends.  To  this  day,  he  rebuffs  Hercules  and  me 
whenever  we  try  to  help  him. 

But  finally,  on  account  of  his  mother  and  sister  out  West, 
he  had  to  put  his  pride  in  his  pocket.  It  was  too  late!  Did 
Cato  ever  tell  you  that  he  had  an  uncle  with  bushels  of 
money  in  California?  Well,  it  seems  there  is  such  a  rela- 
tive, and  Robert  applied  to  him  for  temporary  help.  The 


318  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

uncle,  a  chip  of  Robert's  block  —  for  he  evidently  has  little 
use  for  affection,  family  or  otherwise  —  preserved  a  discreet 
silence.  After  cross-questioning  our  friend,  I  found  out 
why.  He  had  painstakingly  sent  the  old  gentleman  (who 
made  a  fortune  in  real  estate  speculation)  his  own  pamphlet 
on  land  profiteering!  As  I  said  before,  Robert  is  incor- 
rigible. 

What  does  he  do  next  but  hit  on  the  brilliant  scheme  of 
going  to  work  as  a  clerk  in  an  insurance  company,  down- 
town. Denman  Page's  insurance  company,  as  it  happens. 
Fancy  our  fastidious  Cato  with  his  quick  ways  and  ideal 
enthusiasms  sitting  from  nine  till  five  at  a  poky  desk  in 
Wall  Street.  And  is  this  fearful  sacrifice  made  for  the  sake 
of  turning  over  an  honest  penny  (thirty  dollars  a  week, 
to  be  exact)?  Never  believe  it.  Robert's  little  game  is 
to  help  organize  the  mercantile  employees  into  a  radical 
labor  union.  Can  you  beat  it? 

He  says  that  the  clerk  is  the  most  abject  boot-licker  and 
willing  slave  of  the  ruling  robber  bankers  to  be  found  in 
the  whole  industrial  system  (I  won't  vouch  for  the  accuracy 
of  this  description).  He  (the  clerk,  that  is)  needs  redemp- 
tion. But  although  plenty  of  rich  people  go  a-slumming 
amongst  the  very  poor  and  downtrodden,  nobody  is  self- 
sacrificing  enough  to  go  on  a  mission  of  mercy  amongst 
the  benighted  and  degraded  "clerkical"  classes. — And  so  he 
raves  on. 

In  retaliation,  the  big  bankers  and  insurance  chiefs 
have  also  formed  a  society  to  resist  the  inroads  of  Robert's 
infant  union.  Denman  Page,  Charlotte's  indefatigable 
wooer,  is  one  of  the  most  aggressive  leaders  in  the  em- 
ployers' society  and  is  doing  his  utmost  to  persecute  Robert 
and  make  his  life  as  miserable  as  possible.  Robert,  loathing 
business,  hangs  on  downtown,  purely  out  of  regard  for  his 
union. 

He  is  simply  throwing  his  natural  talents  away.  All  so 
unnecessarily,  too.  At  any  moment,  he  could  marry  Char- 
lotte Beecher  for  the  asking,  and  develop  his  executive 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  319 

ability — become  a  great  public  administrator  or  something 
like  that.  Charlotte  isn't  noted  for  her  beauty;  but  she  is 
young,  she  has  several  millions  in  her  own  right,  and  she  is 
no  mere  society  trifler  either.  She  works  almost  as  hard  at 
her  sculpture  as  if  she  had  to  earn  her  own  living.  Lots  of 
men  are  after  her,  naturally  enough.  They  say  Denman 
Page  would  give  his  eyeteeth  to  add  Charlotte's  fortune  to 
his  bank  account.  But  she  seems  to  want  Robert.  Rumor 
has  it  that  she  has  even  proposed  to  him  several  times.  To 
Cato!  And  leave  it  to  him  to  fish  up  some  silly  scruple 
about  not  selling  his  independence  to  a  rich  wife! 

Still,  I  saw  him  in  Charlotte's  studio  in  the  Mews  lately. 
He  was  quite  lover-like  (in  his  Catonic  way),  I  hear  he 
goes  there  pretty  often.  So  perhaps  there's  hope. 

What  a  picture  I  could  draw  of  how  your  departure  with 
Lothario  set  the  Lorillard  tenements  by  the  ears!  The 
headlines,  the  excitement  among  the  Outlaws,  Kips  Bay  in 
a  buzz,  buzz,  buzz — but  you  can  imagine  it  much  better  for 
yourself.  Cato  alone  took  it  with  stoical  calm.  Araminta, 
he  astonished  me!  Hardly  a  syllable  would  he  say  about 
it.  A  stern  sort  of  "make  your  bed  and  lie  in  it"  expression 
was  all  we  could  get  out  of  him.  And  he  shut  off  questions 
with  the  remark  that  it  was  entirely  your  affair. 

Yes,  we  all  thought  Big  Hutch  held  the  key  to  the  leakage 
into  the  papers.  He  hates  Claude  with  an  undying  hatred 
for  some  reason  unknown  to  me,  and  he  has  an  immortal 
tomahawk  out  for  you  because  you  so  openly  showed  the 
disgust  he  filled  you  with.  "Hell  hath  no  fury  like  a 
Hutchins  scorned." 

The  old  villain  was  lately  appointed  a  member  of  a  news- 
paper mission  to  travel  de  luxe  to  Russia.  Trust  Hutchins 
to  keep  himself  in  clover.  Mazie  Ross,  as  bad,  as  pretty, 
and  as  syrupy  as  ever,  is  to  be  his  traveling  companion 
(all  on  the  quiet,  of  course  —  the  purpose  of  the  mission 
being  to  report  on  the  stability  and  morality  of  the  Bol- 
shevik regime).  And  they  say  that  ethics  is  a  humorless 
science! 


320  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Keep  me  informed,  dear  child,  of  your  plans  and  move- 
ments. What  shall  I  send  to  Lothario?  Rosemary  and 
rue,  or  poniards  and  poison?  My  fondest  hopes  and  wishes 
—  from  my  heart  —  wing  their  way  to  you. 

Ever  your  devoted, 

Cornelia. 

Janet  finished  reading  with  a  sigh.  The  letter  changed 
none  of  her  opinions  or  plans.  It  merely  determined  her 
all  the  more  strongly  to  suppress  her  desire  to  write  to 
Robert. 


II 

On  returning  to  her  room  at  the  hotel  she  got  rather  a 
start,  for  Claude  was  there.  Usually  when  he  went  away 
in  anger,  he  returned  late  at  night,  and  it  was  now  only 
late  in  the  afternoon.  A  glance  showed  her  that  he  was  in 
gay  spirits  and  that  he  had  communicated  this  mood  to  the 
apartment  by  filling  it  with  the  color  and  fragrance  of 
flowers.  It  was  a  part  of  his  peace  offering. 

Hardly  had  she  entered,  when  he  rushed  forward,  relieved 
her  of  her  parcels  and  kissed  her  ardently. 

"Darling,"  he  exclaimed,  "what  a  bad-tempered  beast 
I've  been!  Can  you  forgive  me  once  more?" 

She  fought  desperately  against  the  spell  of  his  romantic 
personality. 

"Why  not?"  she  said,  withdrawing  from  his  caresses. 

"You  are  an  angel,  dearest,"  he  said,  seizing  her  hands. 

"Then  I  shall  be  an  angel  on  the  wing,  Claude." 

"Janet!     Say  anything  but  that.    Prescribe  any  punish- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  321 

ment  you  please.  But  do  let's  begin  again,  with  a  clean 
slate." 

"You  can't  get  the  slate  clean  when  the  scratches  are 
too  deep,  Claude.  To  forgive  and  act  as  though  nothing 
had  changed  is  hard;  to  forgive  and  act  as  though  every- 
thing had  changed  is  harder  still.  We  must  both  be  sensible 
and  do  the  second,  the  harder  thing." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Claude,  in  alarm. 

"I  mean  that  we'll  be  much  happier  apart." 

"Don't  say  that  again,  Janet  dearest.  You  are  taking 
my  conduct  of  the  last  two  weeks  too  seriously.  It  isn't 
fair.  I've  frequently  behaved  abominably.  I  don't  try  to 
excuse  it.  I  admit  it.  But  remember  the  constant  worry 
I've  had  to  put  up  with  at  this  cursed  Brussels  office.  That 
boor  of  a  Walloon  in  charge  has  undoubtedly  had  orders 
from  my  father  to  be  a  thorn  in  my  side.  And  he's  doing 
his  level  best  to  please.  Not  a  day  passes  but  what  he 
gives  me  a  hundred  lancet  scratches  ending  in  a  good 
stiletto  stab." 

Worry  had  not  made  Claude  less  handsome.  The  ring 
and  tang  of  his  voice  thrilled  Janet  almost  as  much  as  of 
old.  His  patrician  manner  and  flashing  blue  eyes  were 
almost  as  irresistible.  Yet  Janet  put  away  his  arm  and 
said: 

"Claude,  I  know  you've  had  a  very  trying  time.  It's 
altogether  on  my  account,  isn't  it?  All  the  more  reason  for 
me  to  go  away." 

"But  what  on  earth  do  you  want  to  leave  me  for?" 

"For  a  thousand  reasons." 

"You  might  deign  to  mention  one." 

"Well,  when  you  frown,  you  want  me  to  be  sad;  when 


322  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

you  laugh,  you  want  me  to  be  gay.  You  never  think  that 
I  may  have  moods  of  my  own,  moods  that  won't  dance  to 
your  piping.  You  never  think  of  any  one  but  yourself." 

"Oh,  don't  I?  I've  had  you  on  my  mind  all  day.  I've 
thought  of  nothing  else.  And  it's  not  the  first  day  that 
I've  spent  in  a  torment  of  worry  about  your  attitude 
towards  me." 

A  great  wave  of  self-pity  swept  through  him  and  quite 
carried  him  off  his  feet.  By  precedent,  it  should  have 
carried  Janet  off  her  feet,  too. 

She  stood  her  ground  in  silence. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  be  obstinate,"  he  said,  his 
confidence  beginning  to  desert  him.  "It  isn't  late  yet," 
he  added,  in  a  more  pleading  tone.  "We  can  still  have  an 
awfully  good  time  this  evening.  Do  be  nice — " 

"Nice!" 

She  stood  up  and  looked  at  him.  He  mistook  the  mock- 
ing expression  in  her  smiling  gray  eyes,  and  did  not  notice 
the  faintly  contracting  brows  above  her  long-lashed  eyelids. 

"Yes,  nice  and  reasonable,"  he  went  on,  pursuing  what 
he  thought  an  advantage. 

"Reasonable!"  The  faint  contraction  was  now  a  forbid- 
ding bar.  "I'm  trying  hard  to  be  reasonable,  Claude." 

After  a  pause,  she  smiled  again.  "You  pull  me  one  way, 
reason  pulls  me  another,"  she  said,  with  characteristic  can- 
dor. "Now  see  if  my  plan  doesn't  follow  reason.  You 
left  this  morning,  for  a  short  while;  I'm  leaving  tomorrow, 
for  good  and  all.  You  left  me  in  anger;  I  should  like  to 
leave  you  good  friends.  It  isn't  as  easy  as  it  sounds.  Will 
you  help  me?" 

He  flung  himself  angrily  into  an  armchair. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  323 

"You  must  be  mad  to  think  you  can  shift  for  yourself 
in  a  strange  country." 

"Mad  or  not,  that  is  exactly  what  I  think,"  she  said, 
coldly.  "And  I  shall  begin  to  pack  my  things  now." 

She  actually  drew  out  a  bag  and  suited  the  action  to  the 
words.  Claude  looked  on,  speechless,  After  a  while  he 
went  over  and,  roughly  taking  hold  of  one  of  her  arms,  con- 
tinued his  remonstrance. 

"You  can't  even  read  the  language,  let  alone  speak  it. 
And  you  haven't  a  penny  of  your  own.  Or  do  you  expect 
to  earn  money  on  the  streets?" 

"Not  until  I've  exhausted  the  regular  channels,"  she 
said,  maddeningly  calm. 

Inwardly  she  was  boiling.  She  looked  at  him  steadily 
until  he  released  her  arm.  Then  she  added: 

"I  feel  perfectly  capable  of  looking  out  for  myself,  even 
hi  a  strange  country.  Here  are  some  socks  I  bought  for 
you  at  a  counter  where  no  English  was  spoken." 

"The  devil  take  the  socks!"  he  said,  hurling  the  package 
to  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

She  sat  down  on  a  tuffet  beside  her  case. 

"You  know  quite  well  that  I  had  a  little  money  of  my 
own,  which  I  brought  with  me,"  she  said.  "That  will  do 
me  to  begin  on." 

"To  begin  on!"  he  raged,  pacing  the  floor  violently. 
"What  do  you  mean  by  begin  on?  Is  this  another  secret? 
As  for  your  money,  I  know  nothing  about  that  either.  I'm 
continually  being  slapped  in  the  face  with  something  or 
other  that  you've  kept  in  the  dark.  But  what's  a  little 
deceit  among  lovers?" 

"I've  never  deceived  you,"  she  said,  growing  bitter  as 


324  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

she  went  on.  "In  any  case,  deceiving  you  would  be  a  trifle 
compared  with  the  crime  of  deceiving  myself." 

"Deceiving  yourself?" 

"Yes.  Do  you  suppose  I  could  ever  have  lived  with 
you,  without  first  thoroughly  deceiving  myself?" 

Claude's  anger  cooled  at  this  bitter  question.  Janet  was 
now  worked  up,  and  anything  was  better  than  the  killing 
indifference  she  had  so  far  maintained.  He  closed  her 
valise  and  sat  down  on  it,  at  her  side. 

"Janet,"  he  pleaded,  "you  were  never  like  this  before. 
So  unyielding,  so  cold.  And  I  had  planned  that  we'd  make 
a  gala  night  of  it.  Look  at  these  lovely  flowers.  Don't 
you  understand  their  symbolism?  I'm  going  to  do  the 
right  thing.  I  mean  to  marry  you  now,  here  hi  Brussels, 
at  once!" 

"You've  offered  to  do  that  before." 

"Yes,  but  I  really  mean  it  this  time." 

"And  I  really  meant  it  Claude,  every  time  I  refused. 
You  see,  I  always  assumed  that  your  offers  were  made  in 
good  faith." 

"You  are  making  a  fool  of  me." 

"No  one  can  do  that  but  yourself." 

He  got  up  abruptly  and  stood  there  nonplused,  while 
she  calmly  went  on  packing.  He  hated  her  for  it.  She 
was  rude,  inflexible,  callous.  Her  motives  were  unfathom- 
able. She  was  never  twice  the  same.  Yet  at  this  moment 
he  believed  he  wanted  her  more  passionately  than  he  had 
ever  wanted  her  before.  He  burst  into  suspicion. 

"What's  the  real  reason,  Janet?  Some  one  has  written 
to  you  —  Robert,  I  dare  say?" 

He  took  her  silence  for  an  affirmation. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  325 

"I  thought  so.  Now  I  understand  your  change  of  atti- 
tude. He's  been  preaching  at  you.  It's  his  specialty.  His 
views,  curse  them,  are  like  a  drought.  They  dry  up  all 
one's  spontaneity  and  natural  affection.  Long  ago,  in  the 
tenements,  I  noticed  his  sinister  effect  on  you.  Whenever 
you  went  out  with  him,  you  came  back  with  your  heart 
hardened  against  me." 

She  laughed  and  said: 

"What  nonsense!  You're  quite  wrong.  Robert  hasn't 
wasted  any  of  his  valuable  sermons  on  me.  He  hasn't  sent 
me  so  much  as  a  scrap  of  paper." 

"Then  what  has  changed  you,  all  of  a  sudden?  Is  it  my 
father  you're  afraid  of?  That  would  be  too  absurd.  He'll 
come  around.  He  has  got  to  come  around.  He  can't  help 
himself.  I  know  too  much  about  the  business,  its  secrets 
and  its  weaknesses.  So  don't  worry  on  that  score." 

"Claude,  it's  all  very  fine.  But  I  don't  see  myself  as 
your  wife.  I'd  never  do.  You  need  a  woman  to  manage 
you  like  a  mother  and  to  flatter  you  like  a  squaw.  But  — 
these  jobs  not  being  in  my  line  —  I'd  criticize  you  like  an 
equal.  And  you  know  you  simply  can't  stand  criticism." 

Was  she  really  rejecting  his  offer  of  marriage?  Claude 
was  appalled  at  the  apathy  of  the  feminine  intellect  in  the 
face  of  a  miracle.  Didn't  she  know  what  his  offer  meant? 
(He  tried  to  convey  it  to  her  —  not  in  the  exact  words,  but 
in  euphemisms.)  It  meant  a  change  of  estate  from  mis- 
tress to  wife.  The  wife  of  Claude  Fontaine!  The  wife  of 
a  merchant  prince  of  Paris,  London,  New  York,  etc.  (the 
only  sort  of  prince  that  counted  in  the  twentieth  century; 
no  mere  paper  prince  or  petty  Venetian  dogeling,  but  a 
prince  whose  rank  had  an  international  validity  and  whose 


326  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

means  could  challenge  the  heart  to  name  its  wildest  desire). 
It  was  not  conceivable  that  she  knew  what  she  was  about. 
Still,  he  had  to  face  the  possibility. 

And  this  desertion  on  top  of  all  he  had  endured  in  conse- 
quence of  leaving  America  with  her! 

"Isn't  there  a  shred  of  gratitude  in  you?"  he  cried  out, 
aghast  at  her  unyielding  front. 

"I'm  not  ungrateful,  Claude,"  she  said,  gravely.  "Liv- 
ing with  you  has  been  a  liberal  education.  I've  learned  the 
truth  about  marriage  without  binding  myself  for  life;  I've 
also  learned  the  difference  between  affection  and  infatua- 
tion without  breaking  either  your  heart  or  mine.  Can  I 
ever  repay  this?  If  every  girl  could  have  some  experience 
in  living  with  a  man  or  two  before  she  made  a  per- 
manent choice,  I  believe  marriage  would  be  far  more 
popular." 

"Confound  your  opinions,"  he  shouted,  in  an  agony  of 
rage. 

With  a  wild  movement,  he  seized  both  her  arms  and 
furiously  lifted  her  to  her  feet. 

"Look  here.  Do  you  think  you  can  calmly  turn  your 
back  on  me  after  what  I've  put  up  with,  after  all  I've 
suffered  on  your  account?  Exactly  why  do  you  want  to 
go  away  at  the  very  moment  that  I'm  marooned  in  this 
infernal  town?  You've  got  to  tell  me  straight!  Is  it  sheer 
insanity,  or  a  craze  for  romantic  adventure?" 

With  cheeks  glowing  and  lips  quivering,  she  said: 

"I'm  leaving  you  because  we  have  nothing  in  common 
except  our  physical  attraction.  And  that  is  mostly  physi- 
cal repulsion  now,  as  you  see." 

"Haven't  you  one  spark  of  love  for  me  left?" 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  327 

"Claude,  with  all  your  faults  I  love  you  still,"  she  replied, 
smiling,  as  she  rallied  her  self-command. 

He  relapsed  into  his  seat,  utterly  overwhelmed. 

Deeply  moved,  she  went  over  to  his  side,  and  looked  at 
him  with  a  pang  of  remorse.  He  edged  away  from  her  with 
a  passionate  sense  of  injury. 

"Remember,"  he  warned  her,  "if  you  leave  me,  that  will 
end  everything.  Society  may  ostracize  you,  or  toss  you 
back  into  the  gutter.  Don't  ask  me  to  lift  a  finger." 

The  friendly  words  froze  on  her  lips.  She  quietly  resumed 
packing. 

He  sprang  up,  beside  himself,  his  whole  person  vibrating 
with  his  fury. 

"If  you're  going,  you  needn't  wait  until  tomorrow!"  he 
said,  drawing  in  his  breath.  "You  can  go  now,  for  all  I 
care." 

He  walked  to  the  window,  his  teeth  clenched  and  his 
body  set. 

While  she  hastily  assembled  the  rest  of  her  most  neces- 
sary things,  he  was  saying  to  himself: 

"This  damned  idea  of  independence!  She  thinks  she 
can  frighten  me.  She  thinks  I  won't  let  her  go.  I'll  call 
the  bluff,  and  she'll  come  back  flying." 

All  this  on  a  horrible  quicksand  of  doubt. 

But  she  saw  only  his  hostile  back  and  heard  only  the 
echo  of  his  savage  tones. 

How  like  her  mother  he  was! 

Without  a  word,  she  picked  up  her  bag  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE 
I 

A  sedan  drove  up  to  M.  St.  Hilaire's  house  in  the 
Quartier  Leopold.  The  young  lady  who  got  out  was  met 
at  the  door  by  a  girl  of  fourteen  who  enfolded  her  in  affec- 
tionate embraces. 

"Oh,  what  a  slow  poke!"  cried  the  girl  reproachfully. 
"You  were  gone  for  ever  and  ever,  Jeanette!" 

"Two  hours  and  ten  minutes,  Henriette,"  said  Janet, 
looking  at  her  wrist  watch,  "is  pretty  short  measure  for 
eternity.  I'm  glad  you're  not  my  butcher  or  baker." 

Henriette  grimaced.  They  went  upstairs  together,  the 
girl's  arm  tightly  clasping  her  companion's  waist. 

Henriette  St.  Hilaire  was  a  lovely  girl,  lithe  and  slender. 
Her  fair  hair  was  bobbed  and  her  eyes  were  the  soft  blue 
eyes  of  the  North. 

She  complained  again  of  the  dull  time  she  had  had. 

"Serve  you  right  for  having  a  headache  when  I  left,"  said 
Janet.  "According  to  Herbert  Spencer,  if  I  went  out  for  a 
drive  by  myself  every  time  you  had  one,  your  headaches 
would  soon  disappear." 

"Mine  has  gone  already.  Show  me  all  you  bought, 
Janski.  May  I  open  the  parcels?" 

"Yes,  one  by  one." 

For  Henriette  was  recklessly  attacking  strings  and  wrap- 
pers, to  the  great  peril  of  the  contents. 

Among  the  parcels  undid  was  one  containing  a  book. 

She  read  out  the  title:  "Tom,  Dick  and  Harry." 


THE  LOVE   CHASE  329 

"What's  this?" 

"That's  a  book  of  light  reading  for  a  young  lady  well 
advanced  in  the  English  language." 

Henriette  had  taken  to  English  as  a  duck  takes  to  water. 
After  a  year  of  continuous  practice,  she  spoke  it  well,  and 
read  or  wrote  it  passably. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  a  girl's  book,  is  it?"  she  said,  dubiously,  and 
scanning  the  title  again  in  the  light  of  Janet's  words. 

"No,  it's  a  boy's  book.  Boys'  books  are  the  only  ones  I 
know  about  because  they  were  the  only  ones  I  used  to  read. 
They  were  much  jollier  than  the  girls'  books." 

"Did  your  mother  let  you  read  boys'  books?  My  mother 
wouldn't." 

"Nor  mine  either.  But  I  read  them  on  the  sly.  That's 
what  made  them  so  enticing,  I  suppose." 

"I  can't  imagine  that  you  ever  did  anything  on  the  sly, 
Janski,"  said  the  child,  who  still  took  idioms  somewhat 
too  literally. 

"Oh,  can't  you?  Then  I'm  not  half  such  a  fool  as  I  look." 

Henriette  laid  the  book  down  and  went  over  to  make  a 
demonstration  of  tenderness  by  way  of  intimating  that  she 
believed  Janet  to  be  the  best  and  cleverest  person  in  the 
whole  world. 

Janet  skillfully  cut  this  demonstration  short.  She  believed 
that  a  child's  affections,  like  its  disaffections,  should  be  kept 
well  within  bounds. 

"Your  enthusiasm  for  'Tom,  Dick  and  Harry,'  "  she  said, 
in  her  musical  voice,  "leaves  much  to  be  desired.  Let  me 
tell  you  that  it  is  not  a  book  for  study,  but  a  book  for 
light  reading.  If  you  really  mean  to  make  English  your 
'adopted  tongue,'  as  you  sometimes  tell  me,  you  must  get 


330  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

used  to  light  reading.  The  English-speaking  nations  read 
very  little  else." 

Henriette  gave  her  a  look  full  of  adoration. 

"Oh,  I  don't  need  light  reading  while  I  have  you.  To 
be  with  you  is  like  —  it's  as  exciting  as  watching  the  loop- 
the-loop!" 

"Look  here,  Miss,  do  you  imply  that  I'm  a  sort  of  three- 
ringed  circus  or  professional  jumping-jack?" 

"No.  I  don't  mean  anything  horrid  and  jumpy  like  that. 
I  mean  you  are  never  like  other  people.  That's  why  it's 
such  fun  to  try  and  guess  what  you  will  do  or  say  next. 
And  I  hardly  ever  guess  right." 

"I  see.  I'm  more  like  a  Christmas  stocking,  full  of 
surprises." 

"There,  you  see  what  funny  things  you  say!  It's  far  more 
absorbing  than  a  hundred  books  of  light  reading." 

"Henriette,  you  are  becoming  highly  skilled  at  flattery. 
It's  a  very  useful  accomplishment.  If  my  absence  brings 
out  virtues  like  this,  I  think  I  shall  make  a  point  of  desert- 
ing you  for  two  hours  every  morning.  You  will  become  a 
paragon,  and  I  shall  be  famous  for  my  absent  teaching." 

"Oh,  no,  no,  most  dearest  Jeanette.  If  need  be,  I'll  say 
the  most  awful  things  about  you.  I'll  do  anything  to  keep 
you." 

She  gave  a  great  sigh. 

"You  don't  know  how  I  worry  about  losing  you.  It's 
terrible!  Why  weren't  you  my  sister  or  my  aunt?  Then 
I'd  be  sure  of  keeping  you  always!" 

"Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,  darling.  If  we  were  close 
relations,  everybody  would  expect  us  to  be  fond  of  each 
other.  And  this  expectation  would  probably  destroy  most 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  331 

of  the  fondness,  unless  our  attraction  for  each  other  hap- 
pened to  be  overwhelming." 

"Oh,  it  is  overwhelming,  isn't  it?  It  must  be,  Jeanette. 
Why,  I  wouldn't  mind  even  if  you  were  my  mother!" 

"That's  what  I  call  crushing  proof." 

"Yes.  And  it's  taking  chances,  too.  I  don't  really 
want  another  mother,  you  know.  Mothers  are  only  truly 
nice  to  their  sons.  Now  do  you  see  how  much  I  love  you?" 

"I  do,  you  little  philosopher.  And  I  conclude,  from  so 
much  undeserved  affection,  that,  as  a  teacher,  I  have  prob- 
ably been  far  too  easy-going.  In  future,  I  shall  have  to 
be  much  more  severe." 

"Oh,  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  said  Henriette, 
laughing.  "It  isn't  the  way  you  treat  me.  It's  —  well,  I 
don't  know  what.  Perhaps  it's  the  deep,  deep  mystery 
about  you.  Papa  has  noticed  it,  too." 

"Has  he,  indeed?" 

"Yes.  And  speaking  of  mysteries,  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
that  some  one  called  to  see  you  while  you  were  out.  A 
gentleman  — " 

"A  gentleman!    Who  could  it  be?" 

"Well,  he  was  a  great  big  mountain  of  a  man.  Ugly,  oh, 
like  the  ogre  in  a  fairy  tale.  I  didn't  like  him  a  bit." 

"Oh,  you  saw  him?" 

"Yes.  I  peeked  over  the  banisters.  What  a  monster! 
Papa  wasn't  home.  Berthe  let  him  in  because  he  said  he 
was  an  old  friend  of  yours.  Here's  his  card." 

Janet  read  the  name  of  Hutchins  Burley,  and  needed  all 
her  self-control  not  to  show  her  dismay. 

"Did  he  leave  a  message?" 

Henriette  prattled  on,  unaware  of  Janet's  emotion. 


332  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"He  asked  Berthe  to  tell  you  that  he  would  call  again 
about  five  o'clock  tomorrow  afternoon.  He  said  he  especially 
wanted  to  see  you.  If  you  couldn't  be  in,  he  would  be  sure 
to  see  papa." 

"Five  o'clock,  did  he  say?" 

"Yes.  Just  when  my  riding  lesson  comes.  I  suppose 
we  shall  have  to  give  up  our  ride,"  she  added  mournfully. 

"Let's  wait  and  see,  dear." 

II 

Had  Burley  chanced  upon  her  in  the  street  and  followed 
her  home,  or  had  he  seen  her  in  one  of  the  shops  or  at  one 
of  the  English  tea  rooms  in  Brussels?  Janet  did  not  pursue 
this  fruitless  inquiry.  The  question  was  how  to  meet 
the  fact,  the  perilous  fact.  For  she  could  hardly  doubt 
that  Hutchins  Burley's  visit  boded  her  no  good. 

She  passed  the  events  of  the  last  nine  months  in  quick 
review.  M.  St.  Hilaire  had  engaged  her  without  references. 
True  to  his  agreement,  moreover,  he  had  given  her  a  free 
hand  with  Henriette's  education  and  had  been  well  pleased 
when  a  growing  attachment  between  Janet  and  his  daugh- 
ter relieved  him  almost  entirely  of  routine  parental  cares. 

As  the  virtual  guardian  of  Henriette,  Janet  had  had 
little  to  complain  of  and  much  to  be  thankful  for.  Her 
pupil  and  her  pupil's  father  had  treated  her  from  the  first 
as  one  of  themselves,  so  that  she  enjoyed  all  the  advantages 
of  membership  in  a  family  of  wealth  and  refinement.  These 
advantages  were  not  to  be  scoffed  at.  M.  St.  Hilaire  was  not 
only  a  man  of  cultivated  tastes;  he  possessed  the  means 
(derived  from  extensive  realty  holdings  in  Alsace  and 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  333 

Switzerland)  which  permitted  him  to  indulge  his  tastes  on 
a  very  liberal  scale. 

All  in  all,  Janet  thanked  her  lucky  stars,  especially  as  the 
pose  of  chivalry,  which  M.  St.  Hilaire  had  contributed  to 
their  first  meeting,  had  worn  very  well.  True,  at  the  outset, 
he  had  made  a  few  advances  ranging  from  the  demonstra- 
tive to  the  amorous.  But  she  had  set  these  experiments 
down  to  the  incorrigible  habit  of  continental  gallantry.  He 
had  not  gone  beyond  them,  had  accepted  her  gentle  rebuffs 
with  a  very  good  grace,  and  had  not  thenceforth  encroached 
upon  her  intimacy  further  than  she  wished. 

Of  late,  she  had  not  been  able  to  close  her  eyes  to  the 
fact  that  her  employer  was  engaged  in  a  mental  debate  as 
to  whether  or  no  he  should  propose  marriage  to  her.  She 
regretted  this  fact  and  dreaded  its  sequel.  For  reasons  that 
seemed  good  and  sufficient  to  her  instincts  if  not  to  her  intel- 
lect, she  had  no  desire  to  marry  M.  St.  Hilaire.  Her  present 
berth  was  very  comfortable  and  altogether  to  her  liking. 
It  gave  her  the  rest  she  needed  after  the  strain  of  her 
adventure  with  Claude;  it  also  gave  her  an  opportunity  to 
reflect  on  the  past  and  get  her  bearings  in  the  present, 
before  she  took  another  leap. 

It  was  in  the  light  of  these  relations  with  M.  St.  Hilaire 
and  with  Henriette  that  she  wondered  what  she  ought  to  do. 

As  regards  Hutchins  Burley,  she  was  sure  that  he  meant 
to  play  the  heavy  villain.  Why  not?  Nature  had  cut  him 
out  for  the  part,  patterning  him  magnificently  upon  the 
"heavies"  that  trod  on  the  blood-and-thunder  stage.  After 
all,  one  had  to  give  this  stage  its  due.  If  the  literary  drama 
could  create  characters  which  nature  copied  (and  some- 
times improved  on),  so  could  melodrama.  And  certainly, 


334  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

in  Hutchins  Burley,  melodrama  had  prompted  nature  to 
make  her  masterpiece. 

Janet  had  rather  settled  it,  then,  that  Hutchins  would 
have  the  audacity  to  approach  her  with  a  repugnant  offer 
(the  same  old  offer),  hoping  that  her  recent  experience 
might  have  left  her  less  squeamish  than  in  the  days  of  the 
model  tenements  when  she  had  repeatedly  repulsed  him 
with  scorn.  On  being  repulsed  anew,  he  would  proceed  to 
inform  M.  St.  Hilaire  of  her  affair  with  Claude  Fontaine,  in 
the  expectation  that  the  news  would  bring  about  her  dis- 
charge. For  it  was  unlikely  that  a  father  would  wish  his 
child  to  continue  in  the  care  of  a  young  woman  who  had 
"gone  wrong." 

The  mischief  done,  Hutchins  would  live  in  hopes  of 
snatching  from  her  weakness  the  gratification  he  had  vainly 
striven  to  beg,  borrow  or  steal  from  her  strength. 

Should  she  now,  like  a  movie  heroine,  try  to  head 
Hutchins  off,  temporize  with  his  expected  offer,  pay  him 
blackmail,  or  what  not?  She  laughed  heartily  at  this  idea, 
its  execution  was  so  foreign  to  her  nature. 

What  would  Robert  advise  her  to  do?  At  this  point, 
she  repeated  an  act  that  had  lately  been  a  favorite  part  of 
her  daydreams.  She  called  up  Robert,  as  Saul  called  up 
the  Witch  of  Endor,  and  had  a  long,  sensible  talk  with  him, 
one  of  those  long,  sensible  talks  so  frequent  in  the  days  of 
Barr  &  Lloyd  in  the  Lorillard  tenements. 

Robert  advised  her  to  obey  her  common  sense  unless  her 
instinct  kicked  over  the  traces,  in  which  case  let  her  feel 
no  compunction  about  obeying  her  instinct.  She  had  better 
have  as  little  direct  dealing  with  Hutchins  Burley  as  pos- 
sible. You  could  no  more  put  off  a  scoundrel  than  you 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  335 

could  buy  up  a  gentleman.  The  basest  as  well  as  the  best 
of  men  were  incorruptible.  If  Hutchins  had  it  in  mind  to 
do  something  nasty,  he  would  do  it,  no  matter  what  course 
she  took. 

Of  course,  she  might  throw  herself  on  M.  St.  Hilaire's 
mercy.  But  then,  though  M.  St.  Hilaire  was  a  decent  sort 
of  man,  was  he  not,  like  most  cultivated  men,  a  classicist? 
That  is,  were  not  his  reactions  towards  matters  of  sex 
thoroughly  traditional?  If  so,  the  only  attitude  of  Janet's 
that  he  would  comprehend  would  be  that  of  a  penitent 
Magdalene  with  uplifted  hands  and  tearful  eyes.  Was  she 
prepared  to  assume  this  role? 

"Decidedly  not,"  was  Janet's  hot  reply  to  Robert's  shade. 
"I  may  have  been  rash  or  worldly-unwise,  but  I  won't 
admit  that  I  was  wicked.  If  I  am  asked  to  pay  up  for  my 
folly,  I  shall  not  try  to  evade  payment.  But  if  I  am  asked 
to  pay  up  for  my  wickedness  (which  I  do  not  acknowledge), 
I  shall  fight  payment  to  the  last  ditch. 

"No  doubt,  M.  St.  Hilaire  will  think  me  wicked,  but  do 
you?" 

"There  are  three  kinds  of  people,"  solemnly  responded 
Robert's  astral  spirit.  "And  they  correspond  roughly  to 
three  kinds  of  existence  we  recognize:  animal,  vegetable  and 
mineral.  The  mineral  people  are  the  dead  people.  Not 
more  dead  than  the  so-called  minerals.  But,  like  rocks  and 
stones,  they  are  incarnations  of  law  and  custom  petrified. 
Then  there  are  the  vegetable  people,  the  people  who  fold 
their  hands  and  piously  accept  such  crumbs  of  life  as  are 
showered  upon  them  from  the  lap  of  High  Heaven.  Lastly 
there  are  the  animal  people,  the  people  who  go  out  to  find 
life  instead  of  waiting  for  life  to  find  them.  If  you  intend 


336  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

to  remain  in  the  last-named  class,  you  must  cheerfully 
assume  the  risks  of  adventure." 

"Dear  me,"  ejaculated  Janet,  "if  his  very  shade  isn't 
lecturing  me  for  old  times'  sake!" 

It  was  a  little  humilating  to  be  so  dependent  on  Robert, 
even  in  the  spirit.  She  wouldn't  have  minded  it  so  much 
if  his  terrestrial  self  hadn't,  with  desolating  coldness, 
washed  his  hands  of  her  fate. 

Still,  take  it  all  in  all,  he  had  done  what  all  sagacious 
ghostly  advisers  should  do,  he  had  told  her  to  do  exactly 
what  she  wanted  to  do. 

Consequently,  Henriette's  riding  lesson  should  not  be 
interfered  with  tomorrow.  When  Hutchins  Burley  came  at 
five  o'clock,  he  would  find  her  out.  Tableau  of  a  raging 
ogre!  His  fury  would  know  no  bounds,  and  he  would  surely 
embellish  Janet's  life  history  so  that  M.  St.  Hilaire  should 
put  the  worst  interpretation  on  everything.  Well,  let  him 
do  his  vilest.  Come  what  may,  time  and  the  hour  would 
run  through  the  roughest  day. 

Losing  Henriette!  — Ah,  that  would  be  a  bitter  pill  to 
swallow.  Still,  it  wasn't  the  first  bitter  pill  and  it  wouldn't 
be  the  last. 

In  every  other  way,  she  felt  ready  for  a  change. 

HI 

"Can  I  see  you  for  a  few  minutes?"  said  M.  St.  Hilaire 
to  Janet,  intercepting  her  outside  his  study,  a  little  after  six 
o'clock  next  day. 

She  and  Henriette  were  on  their  way  upstairs  to  take  off 
their  riding  clothes  and  to  dress  for  dinner. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  337 

"If  you  two  are  going  to  chatterbox,  I  shall  take  a  little 
nap,"  said  Henriette,  climbing  drowsily  up  another  flight 
of  stairs  to  her  room. 

"Don't  be  too  long,  mon  pere,"  she  added,  stopping  half- 
way and  looking  down  over  the  banisters.  "I'm  even  more 
hungry  than  sleepy.  Jeanette,  please  wake  me  when  you 
come  up." 

Janet,  from  within  the  study,  promised  to  do  so. 

Neither  her  voice  nor  her  manner  betrayed  her  appre- 
hensiveness.  Her  sailor  hat  was  set  rather  jauntily  on  her 
head.  Her  light-brown  riding  coat  and  breeches  made  a 
most  becoming  costume,  one  that  showed  the  undulating 
grace  of  her  movements  to  excellent  advantage. 

M.  St.  Hilaire  followed  her  into  the  study  and  closed  the 
door  a  shade  too  circumspectly. 

His  glances  and  the  vibrant  tones  of  his  voice  puzzled  her 
considerably.  She  could  guess  the  substance  of  what  he 
meant  to  convey  but  not  the  form  in  which  he  meant  to 
convey  it. 

"That  man — "  he  began  in  a  hesitant  manner. 

"Mr.  Burley,  the  man  I  said  was  coming  today?" 

"He  came.    You  didn't  tell  me  what  he  was  coming  for." 

"I  knew  he'd  do  it  so  much  better." 

"He  treated  me  to  a  long,  long  story  about  you." 

"Yes,  I  rather  thought  he  would." 

"Oh,  so  you  knew  that,  too?" 

"I  had  no  cause  to  suspect  him  of  amiable  intentions," 
she  said,  swinging  her  sailor  hat  by  the  elastic  band.  "I 
suppose  he  told  you  that  I  lived  with  Claude  Fontaine?" 

"Yes,  but  of  course,  I — " 

"Oh,  it's  quite  true." 


338  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

M.  St.  Hilaire,  nonplused  by  her  candor,  stroked  his 
auburn  beard  and  feasted  on  the  sight  of  her  as  she  sat  in 
an  armchair  not  far  away.  The  indefinable  suggestion  of  a 
devil-may-care  mood  enhanced  her  vital  charm  until  it 
stirred,  thrilled,  intoxicated  him. 

"Perhaps  —  at  one  time  —  you  have  loved  this  Burley?" 
he  asked,  nursing  the  suspicion. 

"A  beast  like  that?    Never!" 

He  moved  his  chair  very  closely  to  hers. 

"Just  Monsieur  Fontaine?" 

"You  don't  expect  me  to  go  into  details?"  she  said,  color- 
ing deeply. 

"No,  no,  my  dear.  But  —  what  has  been,  can  be.  Is  it 
not  so?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

He  didn't  quite  know  himself.  Being  in  no  condition  to 
reason  clearly,  he  had  leaped  rashly  to  the  conclusion  that 
she  had  wished  him  to  learn  of  her  love  affair  as  an  indirect 
way  of  encouraging  him. 

Janet  could  not  know  his  thoughts  precisely,  but  she  had 
an  inkling.  She  wondered  that  she  could  have  been  so 
blind  as  not  to  have  seen  that  his  studied  chivalry  towards 
women  covered  a  strongly  sensual  nature. 

Even  then,  she  was  not  insensible  to  the  fact  that  Anton 
St.  Hilaire  was  a  pleasing  man  to  look  upon.  His  bright 
blue  eyes  and  clear,  ruddy  complexion  testified  to  a  sound 
physique.  Perhaps  he  was  a  trifle  too  robust.  But  there 
was  a  feminine  comeliness  about  him  which  was  a  foil  to 
his  surging  virility.  In  many  women,  the  first  quality 
calmed  the  piquant  fears  which  the  second  quality  excited. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  339 

"Burley  naturally  told  all  sorts  of  lies  about  you,"  he 
added,  for  want  of  a  better  line  to  take. 

"I  expected  he  would." 

"And  of  course  I  sent  him  about  his  business." 

"I  rather  expected  that,  too,"  she  said,  smiling  in  spite  of 
a  growing  sense  of  alarm. 

For  he  had  abruptly  approached  her  and  advanced  as 
fast  as  she  involuntarily  withdrew.  She  retreated  around 
the  desk  towards  the  closed  door,  on  one  side  of  which  stood 
a  wide  leather  couch.  Against  this  she  stumbled  slightly, 
and  he  caught  up  with  her. 

"Janet,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  thick  with  excitement, 
"the  way  he  dared  to  talk  about  you,  you  —  so  sweet,  so 
clean,  so  adorable.  I  could  have  strangled  the  brute." 

"I  wish  you  had." 

"You  must  let  me  protect  you  — " 

They  were  at  cross-purposes.  She  thought  she  could 
still  reach  the  door  and  make  a  dignified  escape.  He  felt 
her  withdrawal  as  an  added  incitement.  He  had  so  long 
dispensed  with  the  anticipating,  insinuating  maneuvers  in 
the  technique  of  love-making  that  he  had  lost  the  knack 
of  using  them.  Moreover,  his  muscular  strength,  a  sanguine 
temperament,  and  past  successes  in  sexual  experiments  had 
primed  him  with  the  belief  that  direct  action  was  the 
shortest  way  with  all  women. 

"You  must  let  me  protect  you — " 

With  the  words  still  on  his  lips,  he  took  her  violently 
in  his  arms. 

The  touch  of  his  hand  against  her  body  filled  her  with  an 
enormous,  sexless  anger.  Making  an  almost  superhuman 
effort,  she  struck  back  his  head  and  succeeded  in  wrenching 
herself  from  his  grasp. 


340  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

He  stumbled,  but  instantly  picked  himself  up.  As  he 
tried  to  back  her  away  from  the  door,  she  again  raised 
her  hand. 

"I  can  protect  myself,"  she  said,  with  a  passionate  repug- 
nance that  chilled  him  to  the  soul. 

"Don't  go  like  that,"  he  cried,  springing  forward  and 
clutching  at  her  arm. 

She  dragged  it  away,  rang  for  the  maid,  and  rapidly 
turned  the  door  knob. 

"Berthe,"  she  called  down  the  hall,  in  clear  ringing  tones, 
"please  open  the  storeroom.  I  want  to  get  at  my  trunk." 

Then  she  turned  and  looked  at  him,  cold,  distinguished, 
unapproachable. 

M.  St.  Hilaire  plumped  into  the  nearest  seat. 

"I  meant  no  harm,"  he  muttered,  numb,  and  crestfallen 
as  a  dried  pear. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 
I 

Ten  days  later.  A  large  sitting  room  in  exclusive 
lodgings  near  Picadilly,  London.  Two  men  in  an  animated 
conversation.  The  decidedly  younger  one,  breezy  and  Times 
Squarish,  and  yet  politely,  deferential  to  the  experience  of 
his  senior;  the  latter,  a  tall,  wiry  man  immaculately  dressed 
in  a  suit  of  neutral  coloring. 

The  young  man  was  saying: 

"Yes,  Mr.  Pryor,  he's  slowly  warming  to  me.  Slowly.  I 
tell  you,  sir,  a  Japanese  naval  attache  can  give  points  to 
an  icicle.  Still,  I  think  he's  biting!" 

"Did  you  tell  him  that  the  U.  S.  Army  of  Occupation  had 
sent  machine  guns  to  the  number  of  three  thousand  two 
hundred  and  fifty  to  the  Ukraine?" 

"No.  I  followed  your  instructions  to  the  dot.  I  merely 
said  I  was  in  a  position  to  tell  him  the  number." 

"Well?" 

"He  replied,  with  a  sour  smile,  that  he  was  in  the  same 
position  as  regards  me.  I  ventured  to  question  the  correct- 
ness of  his  information.  He  volunteered  the  figure." 

"And  the  figure  he  gave?" 

"Was  three  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty." 

Mark  Pry  or 's  rather  long  neck  collapsed  telescopically 
down  his  high,  straight  collar. 

"And  you  think  he's  biting!"  he  said,  turning  his  roving 
gray  eyes  quizzically  on  his  companion.  "Take  care,  Smilo, 


342  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

my  boy,  or  he'll  have  you  'biting'  before  you  know  it.  And 
that  will  be  a  case  of  the  biter  bit." 

"Have  your  little  joke  at  the  expense  of  the  service,  Mr. 
Pryor,"  said  young  Smilo,  with  an  air  of  tactfully  convey- 
ing a  rebuke.  "But  is  a  mere  Jap  likely  to  come  it  over  a 
real  American  like  you  or  me?  I  don't  think." 

"Let's  waive  discussion  on  a  point  so  personal.  In  tem- 
perament and  disposition  we  are  exact  opposites.  That's 
why  we  get  on  so  well  together,  and  why  I'm  going  to 
take  you  into  my  confidence." 

"Mr.  Pryor,  you  mustn't  think — " 

"I  know  it,  my  boy,  I  know  it.  I  must  never  think,  and 
I  ought  never  to  take  you  into  my  confidence,  either.  Both 
acts  are  first-class  infractions  of  the  rules  of  the  military 
secret  service.  I  admit  it  shouldn't  be  done.  It  might  result 
in  important  discoveries.  It  might  even  lead  to  the  disen- 
tangling of  one  of  the  mysteries  we're  working  on.  Think 
of  itl  There 'd  be  only  one  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty- 
six  mysteries  left." 

Young  Smilo  laughed  good  naturedly  (to  cheer  the  old 
boy  up!). 

"None  the  less,"  continued  Pryor,  gravely,  "I  shall  now 
violate  another  inviolable  rule.  I  shall  give  you  four  pieces 
of  information.  The  first:  Running  across  Hutchins  Burley 
in  Paris  twelve  days  ago,  I  told  him  the  number  of  machine 
guns  sent  by  us  to  the  Ukraine." 

"So  that  was  the  dodge.  I  see!  You  told  him  the  exact 
number?" 

"Hardly.  I  told  him  three  thousand  two  hundred  and 
fifty.  I  thought  that  number  would  do  as  well  as  any. 
Much  better  than  the  real  number  for  a  variety  of  reasons 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  343 

which  I  won't  stop  to  detail.  Suffice  it,  the  number  agrees 
with  the  number  which  you,  in  your  capacity  of  informer 
to  the  Japanese  Secret  Service,  offered  to  reveal  to  the 
attache,  and  which  he  already  knew." 

"By  George!  With  all  the  other  dope  you've  got  in  the 
Burley  case,  you  must  be  pretty  nearly  ready  to  close  in  on 
the  man?" 

"So  7  thought.  But  Headquarters  didn't.  You  see,  I  had 
followed  Burley  along  a  devious  route  to  Brussels.  By  the 
way,  he  nearly  slipped  through  my  fingers  there.  I  muffed 
him,  so  to  speak.  But  I  picked  him  up  again  before  he  left 
Belgium  and  dogged  him  to  Coblenz." 

"Coblenz?    In  the  thick  of  the  American  occupation?" 

"Precisely.  And  bang  under  the  noses  of  the  American 
army,  Mr.  Hutchins  walked  into  a  tobacconist's  shop  and 
sent  a  letter  to  the  Japanese  embassy.  At  this  tremendously 
exciting  moment,  Headquarters,  in  all  the  majesty  of  its 
omniscience,  shunted  me  off  to  London  and  ordered  me  to 
take  you  in  tow  and  mark  time." 

"We  marked  time  all  right,"  chuckled  Smilo.  "You  might 
say  we  hall-marked  it,  what  little  we  had.  Linking  Burley 
up  with  the  Japs  on  the  one  hand  and  with  the  smuggled 
Fontaine  diamonds  on  the  other,  wasn't  such  a  bad  week's 
work,  even  though  we  haven't  got  the  goods  on  him  yet." 

"That's  all  very  well,  my  boy.  But  what  do  I  get  today? 
Here  is  your  second  piece  of  information.  I  get  word  to 
quit  the  Japanese  case." 

"What  for?" 

"For  a  post  of  honor  in  the  business  of  trailing  certain 
dangerous  American  radicals  who  are  temporarily  in  Lon- 
don. How  do  you  like  that?" 


344  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"I  don't  like  it,  Mr.  Pryor.  And  I  don't  blame  you  for 
not  liking  it.  It  looks  like  a  raw  deal.  But  are  you  sure  it 
hasn't  some  remote  connection  with  Burley?" 

"No,  I'm  not  sure.  The  devil  has  many  irons  in  the  fire. 
So  has  Hutchins  Burley.  Most  energetic  gentlemen  whether 
of  the  diabolic  or  the  celestial  brand  can  gobble  up  an 
astonishing  number  of  miscellaneous  jobs.  For  all  I  know, 
Hutchins  may  be  the  new  Head  Bolshevik  Bomb  Thrower; 
or  he  may  be  the  old  chief  Agent  Provocateur;  or  he  may 
be  merely  somebody  with  a  friend  in  Washington  whose 
word  can  make  Headquarters  quail.  It's  a  conundrum.  A 
pretty,  picture-puzzle,  play-box  conundrum,  if  you  like. 
Still,  a  conundrum.  And  I'm  heartily  sick  of  conundrums. 
I'm  done  with  them.  I  joined  the  Secret  Service  to  become 
a  detective,  not  a  musical  comedy  magician." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  are  going  to  resign?" 

""I  do.  You  have  guessed  my  third  item  of  news.  As 
fast  as  a  steamer  can  carry  me,  I  mean  to  proceed  to  Wash- 
ington, there  to  give  my  resignation  and  sundry  pieces  of 
my  mind  to  the  Chief  in  person." 

"But  keeping  its  agents  in  the  dark  is  an  old,  cherished 
method  of  the  Service,  isn't  it?  Mr.  Pryor,  I  feel  sure  you 
have  another  reason." 

"I  have.    Item  four:  I'm  being  followed." 

"Followed — I   don't  understand." 

"I  began  to  suspect  something  the  moment  I  came  to 
London.  Well,  I  put  my  suspicions  to  the  test  yesterday. 
Before  going  out  I  folded  a  pair  of  trousers  in  a  very  par- 
ticular way  and  left  them  on  a  chair.  When  I  came  back 
they  had  been  refolded  in  a  slightly  different  way." 

"Did  you  question  your  landlady?" 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  345 

"Yes.  Naturally  she  denied  that  any  stranger  had 
entered,  but  her  confusion  was  obvious.  I  quickly  suggested 
that  my  tailor  might  have  called,  and  she  as  quickly  agreed 
that  this  was  so.  When,  an  hour  later,  I  interviewed  the 
tailor  and  he  confirmed  me  in  my  belief  that  he  had  not 
been  near  the  house,  the  inference  was  clear.  I  was  being 
watched.  And,  mark  you,  Smilo,  I  have  reason  to  believe 
that  the  watcher  is  one  of  our  own  colleagues." 

"Lord,  no!" 

"Judging  from  the  awkward  way  the  pockets  were 
crumpled  in  the  act  of  refolding  the  trousers,  I  have  further 
reason  to  believe  that  the  watcher  is  a  woman." 

"Impossible!" 

"Nothing  is  impossible  in  this  best  of  impossible  worlds." 

"It's  a  low-down  shame,  Mr.  Pryor.  But,  after  all,  it 
can't  hurt  you.  'Sticks  and  stones  may  break  my  bones, 
etc.'  You  know  the  saying." 

"My  dear  boy,  being  a  detective  you  can't  begin  to 
realize  that  the  knowledge  that  you  are  being  carefully 
watched  gives  you  a  very  jumpy  feeling — especially  when 
you  know  you're  guilty." 

"In  heaven's  name,  guilty  of  what?" 

"Of  doing  a  good  job  in  your  own  line;  in  my  case,  track- 
ing down  criminals." 

"Surely  you  don't  mean  to  imply  that  Headquarters 
would  permit  influences — " 

"I  imply  nothing.  I  give  you  the  benefit  of  the  facts. 
But  if  you  think  it's  a  pleasure  to  surmise  that  your  every 
movement  has  an  unseen  spectator  —  you  don't  know  who, 
but  you  fear  it's  a  young  and  beautiful  woman — " 


346  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

The  sudden  ring-a-ling  of  the  telephone  bell  cut  across 
the  room. 

Mark  Pryor  took  up  the  instrument. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "It's  Mr.  Pryor  speaking.  A  young 
woman?  Indeed!  Well,  I'll  see  her  up  here." 

He  hung  up  the  receiver. 

"A  young  and  beautiful  woman,"  he  repeated  with  a 
singularly  straight  face. 

Young  Smilo,  whose  way  of  life  was  still  in  the  green,  the 
callow  leaf,  was  divided  between  admiration  and  bewilder- 
ment. In  half  a  minute  or  so  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

The  young  woman  who  came  in  was  Janet  Barr. 

II 

Smilo's  parting  look  was  one  of  stupefaction  at  the  recep- 
tion the  visitor  got,  Pryor's  enthusiasm  being  a  startling 
abandonment  of  his  neutral,  self-contained  manner. 

Left  to  themselves,  Janet  informed  Pryor  of  the  troubles 
that  had  brought  her  to  see  him.  The  chief  of  these  was 
Hutchins  Burley. 

Would  Mr.  Pryor  advise  her  how  to  deal  with  him  if  he 
turned  up  again,  as  seemed  highly  probable? 

There  were  other  difficulties.  She  had  nearly  exhausted 
her  funds.  She  didn't  wish  to  return  to  the  United  States. 
Not  at  the  moment,  anyhow.  Yet  she  couldn't  get  a  posi- 
tion without  a  character. 

This  last  she  had  learned  recently,  after  several  bitter 
experiences.  Europeans  seemed  firmly  persuaded  that  a 
character  existed  not  in  yourself  but  in  the  minds  of  other 
people,  or  rather  in  their  handwriting.  In  the  United  States 
a  good  presence  was  worth  a  thousand  good  characters,  and 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  347 

your  own  opinion  of  yourself,  expressed  with  imaginative 
brilliance,  went  much  further  than  other  people's  opinion  of 
you,  expressed  with  dullness.  In  Europe,  the  reverse  was 
true. 

Would  he  make  out  a  good  character  for  her,  and  have 
it  on  tap  within  easy  reach  in  case  she  referred  employers 
to  him? 

She  was  sure  that  any  testimonial  coming  from  him — yes, 
from  him — 

"Oh,  I  know  you're  a  mystery,"  she  said,  in  answer  to 
his  deprecatory  gesture.  "But  not  an  ordinary  mystery.  A 
mystery  linked  to  the  pink  of  propriety  is  a  sublime  mys- 
tery. Like  Mrs.  Grundy's  husband,  whom  you  remind  me 
of.  No  one  has  ever  identified  that  mysterious  man.  Yet 
who'd  have  the  courage  to  turn  down  a  character  made  out 
by  Mr.  Grundy?" 

She  told  him  of  her  break  with  Claude,  of  her  situation  as 
the  companion  of  Henriette,  and  of  her  experience  with  M. 
St.  Hilaire  as  a  result  of  Burley's  interference. 

"I  left  Brussels  the  very  next  day." 

"For  Coblenz?" 

"Via  Coblenz,  for  Munich,  to  see  you,  if  possible.  It  was 
a  Munich  address  you  gave  me,  on  board  the  'Baronia'." 

"I  left  Munich  some  time  ago." 

"So  I  learned.  You  see,  I  followed  you  here.  But  how 
do  you  know  I  went  to  Coblenz?" 

"On  the  seventh  of  October?" 

"On  the  seventh  of  October.    How  did  you  know  it?" 

"I  didn't  know  it.  The  information  just  drifted  my  way." 

"You  are  a  detective  then,  Sherlock  Holmes  and  M. 
Gaboriau  rolled  into  one." 


348  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Janet,  disabuse  yourself  of  that  idea.  If  I  were  a  detec- 
tive I'd  be  a  very  sorry  one.  Let  me  prove  it  to  you.  In 
the  course  of  my  duties  (whatever  they  are),  I  had  occa-, 
sion  to  look  up  Mr.  Burley.  I  located  him  in  Brussels  on 
the  sixth  of  October.  I  had  scarcely  found  him  before  he 
slipped  through  my  fingers." 

"Slipped  through  your  fingers?" 

"Yes.  Slipped  through  my  fingers.  You  see,  I'm  trying 
to  live  up  to  the  detective  role  to  oblige  you.  Well,  I  got 
on  to  Mr.  Burley's  movements  again  on  the  seventh  of  Octo- 
ber, just  in  time  to  follow  him  to  Coblenz.  Why  Coblenz? 
I  asked  myself  again  and  again.  By  the  way,  did  you  ever 
hear  of  a  real,  live  detective  asking  himself  a  question?" 

"No.    But  what  is  the  answer?" 

"You  are  the  answer,  of  course.  And  I've  only  just  dis- 
covered the  fact.  Fancy  Sherlock  Holmes  following 
Hutchins  Burley  all  the  way  from  Brussels  to  Coblenz  and 
from  Coblenz  to  London  and  not  discovering  a  quintessen- 
tial answer,  until  the  answer  had  crossed  the  Channel  and 
stationed  itself  under  his  very  nose." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  that  odious  Hutchins  Bur- 
ley  is  also  in  London  at  this  very  minute?" 

"Don't  be  alarmed;  I  give  you  my  word  he  sha'n't  molest 
you  again.  I  was  about  to  res —  I  was  about  to  transfer 
my  valuable  services  to  another  sphere.  What  you  have 
told  me  determines  me  to  hang  on  a  little  longer,  for  the 
sole  satisfaction  of  bringing  Hutchins  Burley  to  book." 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  injure  your  prospects  on  my  account." 

"No  fear.  There's  pleasure  in  checkmating  a  fellow  like 
Burley,  and  profit,  too.  You  know,  Janet,  the  real  old- 
fashioned  heavy-weight  villains  are  deplorably  scarce. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  349 

Goodness,  routine  goodness,  is  so  easy  nowadays,  it  is  so 
much  in  fashion,  it  is  so  thoroughly  rammed  down  our 
throats  by  compulsory  education,  that  very  few  people  are 
inclined  to  be  wicked  and  fewer  still  are  energetic  enough 
to  carry  out  the  inclination.  Mr.  Hutchins  Burley  is  a  rare 
beast.  He  does  not  identify  his  wickedness  with  our  good- 
ness. Not  he.  He  believes  in  himself  from  top  to  bottom. 
Unlike  the  usual  criminal  of  today,  he  doesn't  suffer  from 
the  cowardice  of  his  convictions." 

They  discussed  Janet's  plans.  Ways  and  means,  and  how 
to  get  her  off  the  rocks,  were  the  first  considerations. 

"Do  you  know  what?"  said  Pryor,  reflectively;  "your  old 
friend  Cornelia  Covert  could  give  you  a  lift." 

"Oh,  no;  I  can't  go  back  to  America  —  not  yet,  anyhow," 
said  Janet  resolutely. 

"But  she  isn't  in  America.  She's  in  Paris.  You  didn't 
know  it?  Then  I've  a  big  piece  of  news  for  you.  She's 
married!" 

"Cornelia  married!" 

"Yes.  Benedick,  the  married  man,  isn't  in  it  with  Diana, 
the  married  woman." 

"It's  Harry  Kelly,  of  course.  Give  me  a  moment  to 
catch  my  breath.  Mrs.  Harry  Kelly!" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You've  heard  of  Paulette  crepe,  haven't  you?" 

"The  crepe  that's  all  the  rage  this  year.  Mr.  Pryor,  when 
I  see  a  Paulette  crepe  blouse  in  a  London  shop,  the  cells 
of  my  great-great-grandmother  rise  enviously  within  me 
and  turn  the  clock  back  to  Noah." 

"The  curse  of  Eve,"  said  Mr.  Pryor,  in  his  driest  vein. 


350  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Well,  everybody  knows  that  Paulette  crepe  is  named  after 
Madame  Paulette,  one  of  the  first  dressmakers  of  Paris. 
Not  everybody  knows  that  Madame  Paulette's  real  name 
is—" 

"Cornelia!" 

"Precisely." 

Prior  briefly  narrated  the  curious  story  of  Cornelia's 
migration  to  Paris,  her  marriage  to  Harry  Kelly,  her 
transformation  into  a  fashionable  dressmaker.  Through  a 
convergence  of  happy  events,  in  which  Pryor  had  had  a 
hand,  Cornelia  had  been  able  to  enter  the  old  and  famous 
house  of  Paulette,  then  noticeably  on  the  decline.  Her 
artistic  gifts  and  Kelly's  industry  had  rejuvenated  the  man- 
agement and  revived  the  glories  of  the  Paulette  tradition. 
In  a  little  less  than  a  year  Cornelia  and  Kelly  had  bought 
out  the  aged  proprietors  of  the  firm. 

"No  wonder  I  didn't  hear  from  her,"  said  Janet.  "All 
my  letters  came  back  unopened.  I  began  to  think  she  had 
turned  her  back  on  me." 

"Marriage  has  not  changed  her  as  much  as  that,"  said 
Pryor,  smiling.  "But  I  warn  you  that  it  has  changed  her 
a  good  deal." 

"For  the  better  or  for  the  worse?" 

"For  the  better  and  for  the  worse.  But  wait  and  judge 
for  yourself." 

"Perhaps  Cornelia  will  think  me  in  the  way,  now  that 
she  has  a  husband  to  look  after." 

"Cornelia  lose  sleep  over  Harry?  No,  dear  girl;  don't 
worry  on  that  score.  And  don't  forget  that  she'll  be  glad 
to  do  me  a  favor  as  well  as  you.  More  than  one  tony  cus- 
tomer has  come  to  her  shop  at  my  instance.  When  I  tell 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  351 

you  that  I  brought  Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome,  the  mother  of  the 
Duchess  of  Keswick,  to  her,  you'll  admit  that  I'm  a  crack 
barker." 

"Mr.  Pryor,  you  are  my  deus  ex  machina.  I  believe  you 
are  every  one  else's,  too.  It  must  be  a  hobby  with  you  to 
help  people  out  of  difficulties." 

"Quite  the  contrary.  It's  a  hobby  with  me  to  get  people 
into  difficulties.  The  worst  of  it  is,  I  rarely  succeed.  I 
rarely  get  anybody  into  difficulties  except  myself." 

"Is  that  true?" 

"Well,  it's  as  true  of  me  as  it  is  of  certain  other  people. 
Sensitive  people.  People  like  you,  or  Charlotte  Beecher,  or 
Robert  Lloyd." 

"Oh,  Robert  never  gets  himself  into  difficulties,"  said 
Janet,  with  a  trace  of  bitterness.  "He's  too  efficient,  too 
perfect." 

"You  do  him  an  injustice,  I'm  sure.  Lloyd  merely  puts 
up  an  exceptionally  good  front.  He  stands  the  strain  of 
existence  with  skill  and  courage.  So  do  you,  for  that 
matter." 

"Thanks.    But  I  really  haven't  had  much  to  stand." 

"It  seems  ample  to  me." 

"Not  half  what  I  expected.  When  I  went  away  with 
Claude  I  thought  the  universe  would  be  arrayed  against  me. 
I  dare  say  that  in  the  margin  of  my  thoughts  there  was 
a  dim  picture  of  Janet  flinging  a  glove  in  the  face  of  a  deca- 
dent, despotic  world." 

They  both  smiled. 

"What  happened?" 

Janet  went  on,  sub-ironically:  "A  geyser  of  slander  and 
mockery  that  spurted  up  from  the  newspapers.  Nothing 


352  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

else.  Nothing  diabolic  on  the  world's  side.  Nothing  heroic 
on  mine." 

"That's  the  rule  in  these  cases,  Janet.  The  Flatbush 
suburb  idea  that  all  the  world  loves  a  lover  is  about  as  true 
as  the  Greenwich  Village  or  Kips  Bay  idea  that  all  the 
world  hates  a  free  unien." 

"You  think  both  ideas  are  fictions?" 

"Not  entirely.  Modern  society  has  its  own  way  of  giving 
a  pat  of  approval  to  a  regular  marriage  and  a  kick  of  dis- 
approval to  a  free  union.  Apart  from  these  casual  demon- 
strations it  doesn't  get  tremendously  excited  over  what  its 
men  and  women  do  as  males  and  females,  so  long  as  they 
pay  their  rent  regularly,  refrain  from  incurring  bad  debts 
with  tradesmen,  and  bow  the  knee  (at  least  in  public)  to 
the  seventh  commandment." 

"Yes,  I  soon  found  that  out.  Nobody  cared  a  pin 
whether  I  was  married  or  not,  or  whether  I  was  more  to  be 
pitied  than  scorned,  provided  I  wore  the  proper  clothes 
and  toid  the  proper  lies." 

"Nobody?" 

"Nobody,  except  Hutchins  Burley." 

"Ah,  there's  sure  to  be  a  Nemesis!" 

"Yes.  But  why  Hutchins  Burley?  What  am  I  to  Bur- 
ley,  or  Burley  to  me?  Why  should  that  horrible  wretch 
be  commissioned  to  persecute  me?  Why  was  he  destined 
to  snap  the  bond  of  comradeship  between  Henriette  and 
me?  He  isn't  exactly  one's  notion  of  a  social  censor,  is  he?" 

"A  scavenger  isn't  a  popular  notion  of  a  sweet  and  clean 
man.  Yet  he  serves  a  public  purpose." 

"What  an  extraordinary  analogy!" 

"Not  at  all.  You  see,  Janet,  we  moderns  are  too  squeam- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  353 

ish  or  too  lazy  to  do  our  necessary  dirty  work  ourselves, 
dirty  work  like  punishment,  for  instance.  The  result  is 
that  when  some  one  rashly  assails  the  majesty  of  one  of  our 
institutions,  we  punish  him  by  proxy.  We  kill  by  the  hand 
of  the  public  executioner.  We  get  revenge  by  the  hand 
of  the  judge.  We  dispense  poetic  justice  by  the  hand  of  a 
Hutchins  Burley." 

"Well,  Hutchins  Burley  as  society's  Nemesis  is  a  brand 
new  idea  to  me.  I  shall  need  time  to  let  it  sink  in.  But 
what  have  I  done  to  deserve  so  mighty  a  thing  as  poetic 
justice?  I  haven't  even  stolen  another  woman's  husband. 
Haven't  I  been  my  own  worst  enemy,  as  Laura  Jean  Libby 
used  to  say?  Isn't  that  vice  its  own  reward?" 

"Janet,  your  question  is  fair.  But  your  voice  and  your 
eyes  are  not.  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  there  may  after 
all  be  a  teeny  weeny  bit  to  say — no,  not  on  Hutchins  Bur- 
ley's  side — but  on  Monsieur  Anton  St.  Hilaire's  side." 

"Mr.  Pryor!" 

"I  don't  mean  a  twentieth  part  of  what  I  say.  But  let 
me  say  it.  You  are  strong  enough  to  take  it  straight.  To 
begin  with,  the  enigma  of  Hutchins  Burley:  answer  me  this. 
Didn't  you  of  your  own  free  will  settle  down  amongst  the 
Outlaws?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  you  can't  touch  pitch  without  a  little  of  it  stick- 
ing to  your  fingers.  But  let  us  consider  what  you  are  to  do 
next.  It's  a  safer  topic.  We've  talked  unguardedly  enough, 
considering  that  there's  a  dictagraph  in  the  room,  put 
there  by  no  friends  of  mine." 

"A  dictagraph!  Then  you're  not  a  great  detective," 
said  Janet,  seriously  disappointed.  Hopefully,  she  added: 


354  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"If  you  are  not  Sherlock  Holmes,  perhaps  you  are  Raffles?" 
"Well,  it  takes  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief,"  was  the  enig- 
matic reply. 

He  did  not  tell  her  that  the  hiding  place  of  the  dicta- 
graph had  been  located  and  that  Smilo  had  received  instruc- 
tions to  tamper  with  the  instrument  as  soon  as  the  coast 
was  clear. 

Ill 

They  took  a  bus  to  Janet's  lodgings. 

Several  plans  were  agreed  upon.  Chiefly,  they  were 
both  to  write  to  Cornelia  asking  her  to  find  a  position  for 
Janet  in  the  Paulette  establishment. 

Fashionable  dressmaking  was  not  precisely  the  work  that 
Janet's  heart  was  in.  But  she  was  prepared  to  take  any 
position  as  a  means  to  an  end.  Her  real  goal  was  active 
participation  in  the  later  phases  of  the  women's  movement. 
Recent  happenings  had  revived  in  her  the  old  longing  to 
enter  the  thick  of  the  battle,  to  pitch  into  the  struggle  for 
equal  pay  in  every  sort  of  occupation  and  for  an  equal  title 
to  legislative  and  administrative  power. 

"But  I  shall  have  to  get  an  income  of  my  own  before  I 
can  be  a  factor  in  this  struggle,"  she  said. 

"One  must  get  an  income  of  one's  own  before  one  can 
be  a  factor  in  any  struggle  "  said  Pryor,  dryly. 

"Yes,  I've  learned  that,  too.  Feminists  say  that  a  woman 
must  have  an  independent  income  in  order  to  enter  mar- 
riage with  self-respect.  They  could  go  further  and  say  that 
a  woman  must  have  an  independent  income  in  order  to 
enter  a  free  union  with  self-respect." 

Pryor  told  her  that  he  expected  to  return  to  the  United 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  355 

States  in  a  few  weeks.    Should  he,  in  case  he  ran  across 
Robert  Lloyd,  inform  him  of  her  altered  views? 

She  said  that  Robert  wouldn't  thank  him  for  any  infor- 
mation about  ner. 

"But  you  were  such  exceptionally  good  friends,"  expos- 
tulated Pryor.  "Your  little  firm  of  Barr  &  Lloyd  —  what 
a  pity  you  couldn't  pick  that  thread  up  again,  instead  of 
joining  Cornelia.  If  Robert  weren't  as  poor  as  a  church 
mouse,  or  if  you  both  weren't  too  proud  to  borrow  a  little 
cash  from  me — " 

Janet  interrupted  to  veto  all  suggestions  along  that  line. 
Pride  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  question.  It  was  true  that 
she  and  Robert  had  been  very  good  friends  and  excellent 
working  partners.  But  Robert  had  emphatically  said  that 
he  had  no  use  for  a  woman  who  had  damaged  her  social 
and  businesss  value  by  indulging  in  an  adventure  such  as 
hers  ' 

"Hm!"  said  Pryor.  "When  the  shoe  pinches  his  own 
foot,  what  astoundingly  conservative  exclamations  even  a 
radical  fellow  will  make." 

Janet  went  on  to  say  that,  although  she  had  changed  her 
views,  she  had  every  reason  to  believe  that  Robert  had  not 
changed  his.  Thus,  he  had  taken  no  step  whatever  to  com- 
municate with  her,  despite  the  fact  that  she  had  indirectly, 
in  her  first  letter  to  Cornelia,  asked  him  to  do  so. 

"Besides,"  she  added,  "didn't  you  know  that  he  was 
about  to  marry  Charlotte  Beecher?" 

"Oh,  ho,  so  that's  how  the  wind  blows?" 

Pryor,  standing  in  front  of  Janet's  house,  gave  the  curb 
a  sharp  whack  with  his  cane. 

"That  marriage  has  no  place  in  the  scheme  of  your  deus 


356  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

ex  machina"  he  said,  with  a  quizzical  frown.  "We'll  have 
to  take  it  out  on  Burley — give  the  devil  an  extra  twist  of 
the  tail  to  relieve  our  feelings." 

"Yes,  when  you  catch  him.  Meanwhile,  what  am  I  to 
do  about  him?" 

"Forget  him,  forget  him  serenely  for  half  a  dozen  weeks 
or  so.  Then  you'll  hear  from  him  again." 

"Hear  from  him  again,"  she  said,  with  a  shade  of  alarm. 

"Not  from  him  in  person,"  corrected  Pryor,  straighten- 
ing up  till  he  looked  like  a  hickory  stick.  "About  him, 
through  me.  Good  news  for  us,  bad  news  for  him.  Until 
then  good-bye." 


PART  V 
HEARTS  AND  TREASURES 

CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIVE 
I 

On  a  cool  February  morning  a  private  office  in  the 
Maison  Paulette,  Boulevard  Houssman,  was  occupied  by 
five  persons  of  the  feminine  sex.  Four  of  the  five,  gor- 
geous as  to  clothes  and  cosmetics,  moved  busily  about  in 
comet-like  orbits  that  brought  them  periodically  near  the 
desk. 

The  fifth,  seated  at  the  desk  itself,  dominated  the  room. 
She  was  a  striking  blonde,  whose  handsome  dull-green  dress 
challenged  the  glint  of  gold  alike  in  her  pupils  and  her  hair. 

Seemingly  occupied  with  a  book  of  accounts,  this  lady 
was  really  engaged  in  inventing  petty  tasks  for  the  four 
young  women  dancing  attendance  upon  her.  (Mariette, 
ou  est  le  livre  bleu?  Man  dieu,  Gabrielle!  les  ciseaux; 
quelqu'un  a  enleve  mes  petites  ciseaux.  Toinette,  apportez- 
moi  le  boite  aux  lettres.  Tiens,  Ameliel  Prends  ce  mouch- 
oir,  etc.,  etc.)  These  requests  for  service  continued  in  a 
fairly  steady  stream,  amidst  much  hurrying  and  scurry- 
ing, sharp  cries  of  tout  de  suite,  Madame,  and  a  general 
atmosphere  of  sulky  obsequiousness. 

In  the  thick  of  the  confusion  the  door  was  opened  by  a 
young  woman  in  a  soft  suit  of  brown  heather.  She  stood  on 
the  threshold  for  a  moment  and,  as  she  looked  question- 
ingly  towards  the  lady  in  command,  a  slight  frown  brought 
a  bar  of  hazel  brown  over  her  beautiful  gray  eyes. 

The  lady  at  the  desk,  who  saw  everything,  affected  not  to 


358  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

see  the  figure  on  the  threshold  and  went  on  languidly  issu- 
ing orders. 

Thereupon  the  newcomer,  hi  clear,  agreeable  English, 
called  out: 

"Evidently  you  don't  want  me,  Cornelia.  Good,  I'll  go 
back  upstairs.  Fve  stacks  and  stacks  of  work  to  do — " 

"Araminta,  wait!  Of  course  I  want  you.  I  want  you 
most  particularly." 

"You've  got  an  army  here,  already.  What  do  you  want 
me  for?  If  you  keep  on  calling  me  away  from  the  manikins 
whenever  Harry  is  explaining  matters,  he'll  never  be  able 
to  train  me  into  taking  charge  of  them." 

"My  dear!"  trilled  Cornelia,  bringing  her  most  musical 
arpeggio  into  play.  "When  you've  been  married  as  long 
as  I  have,  you'll  understand  that  no  sensible  woman  ever 
interferes  with  her  husband's  work  except  for  a  positively 
overwhelming  reason." 

"Really,  the  reasons  here  in  Paris  are  as  bad  as  the 
seasons,"  said  Janet  with  a  smile.  "I  wish  they'd  calm 
down  and  not  overwhelm  us  quite  so  often." 

"Ah,  Janet,  you  well  may  jest.  Little  do  you  know  of 
the  heavy  responsibilities  involved  in  managing  both  a 
business  and  a  husband.  If  I  had  only  myself  to  think  of, 
the  worries  and  risks  would  be  as  a  whisper  in  the  wind. 
But  I  think  of  Hercules  sharing  my  anxieties,  working  him- 
self thin  and  gray — " 

While  she  went  on  in  this  theatrical  vein,  Janet  was 
thinking  to  herself:  "She  makes  as  great  a  virtue  of  being 
married  as  she  formerly  made  of  not  being  married.  What- 
ever her  condition,  there's  a  terrible  to-do  about  it." 

Aloud  she  said: 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  359 

"Look  here,  Cornelia,  if  you  want  to  talk  privately  to  me, 
hadn't  we  better  get  rid  of  this  retinue?" 

Without  awaiting  a  reply,  she  calmly  released  Marie  and 
the  other  manikins  from  service  and  sent  them  out  of  the 
room.  This  done,  she  took  a  chair  opposite  the  desk  where 
Cornelia  sat  staring  at  her  in  speechless  indignation. 

Cornelia  cherished  a  sort  of  mental  chromo  of  herself  as 
the  active  ruler  of  the  Paulette  community,  a  ruler  at  once 
imperious,  genial,  and  adored.  In  point  of  fact,  her  in- 
satiable appetite  for  attention,  reinforced  by  a  sharp  tongue, 
spread  an  atmosphere  of  dread  and  anxiety  around  her. 
Janet  was  the  only  person  who  had  ever  succeeded  in  weak- 
ening Cornelia's  illusion  about  herself  by  bringing  it  into 
occasional  juxtaposition  with  reality. 

"You'll  greatly  oblige  me,  Janet,  by  not  ordering  my 
servants  about  under  my  very  nose." 

"Your  manikins  are  not  your  servants,  Cornelia.  They're 
your  employees.  You  slave-drive  them  outrageously.  If 
you  don't  look  out,  you'll  have  a  strike  on  your  hands 
before  long." 

"With  you  as  the  strike  leader,  I  dare  say?" 

"Why  not?  Your  inability  to  respect  other  people's  time 
is  simply  appalling.  The  moment  some  whim  pops  into 
your  head,  one  of  us  is  called  upon  to  gratify  it.  You  quite 
forget  that  when  you  arbitrarily  take  us  from  our  jobs, 
bang  goes  continuity,  a  most  important  factor  in  good 
workmanship.  Mazie,  who  came  here  grovelling  in  the  dust, 
is  now  up  in  arms;  the  manikins  are  unitedly  rebellious; 
Harry  is  almost  a  nervous  wreck.  This,  with  business 
simply  deluging  the  establishment.  I  tell  you,  unless  you 
stop,  we  all  will." 


360  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Cornelia  quailed  under  these  words,  although  she  kept 
her  face  admirably.  She  was  in  some  respects  like  a 
wrongly  bound  volume:  half  Becky  Sharp  and  half  Hedda 
Gabler.  And  it  was  the  Hedda  Gabler  pages  she  always 
turned  up  to  Janet. 

"Well,  what  next?"  she  exclaimed,  on  the  defensive  in 
spite  of  her  brave  words.  "I've  rescued  Mazie  Ross  out  of 
the  gutter  where  Hutchins  Burley  flung  her;  I've  sacrificed 
my  own  creature  comforts  to  make  those  of  the  manikins 
secure;  I've  given  you  a  very  tidy  berth  and  no  questions 
asked;  and  I've  worked  myself  to  skin  and  bones  for 
Harry's  sake.  Now  you  all  turn  on  me  and  call  me  an 
interfering  busybody,  or  worse.  That's  human  gratitude." 

Janet,  giving  the  faintest  ironical  shrug,  merely  looked 
at  her. 

Cornelia  smothered  a  sob  of  rage.  After  a  pause,  she 
informed  Janet  that  Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome,  her  most  valued 
customer,  had  made  an  appointment  that  morning  to  look 
at  some  frocks  and  gowns.  This  lady  had  a  single  hobby, 
clothes;  and  she  spent  an  appreciable  fraction  of  her  untold 
millions  ("she's  divorced  two  multimillionaires,  Araminta, 
and  driven  a  third  into  the  diplomatic  service!")  on  this 
hobby.  She  had  expressed  profound  dissatisfaction  with 
Paulette's  offerings  on  her  last  visit  two  weeks  ago.  It  was 
therefore  of  prime  importance  to  please  her  this  time. 

"I  want  you  to  be  in  the  salon  with  me  when  she  looks 
at  the  models,"  said  Cornelia.  "She's  extremely  susceptible 
to  flattery.  As  the  head  of  the  house,  I  can't  very  well  lay 
it  on  too  thick,  can  I?  I  have  a  feeling  that  your  presence 
will  make  the  sales  go  smoothly." 

"You'd  better  leave  me  out  of  it,  Cornelia.    I  never  sold 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  361 

a  thing  in  my  life.    Why,  I  couldn't  sell  a  sandwich  to  a 
starving  man." 

"/'//  do  the  selling,  my  dear.  I  simply  ask  you  to  be  on 
hand.  The  fact  is,  you  have  a  peculiar  influence  over 
people.  When  they  get  to  talking  with  you,  they  suddenly 
forget  about  things  —  the  earth-earthy  things  by  which  we 
are  all  so  obsessed  nowadays  —  they  appear  to  forget  about 
things  and  begin  to  occupy  themselves  with  thoughts  and 
dreams.  In  that  condition,  a  man  or  woman  will  buy  any- 
thing." 

"Cornelia,  you'll  admit  that  I've  done  all  sorts  of  odd 
jobs  for  you  without  a  murmur.  But  I  really  don't  like  to 
bamboozle  anybody  into — " 

" Bamboozle!  Araminta!  No  one  who  buys  a  Paulette 
frock  is  bamboozled.  Be  quite  clear  about  that." 

She  added,  less  belligerently,  that  Mrs.  Jerome,  though 
so  very  rich,  had  no  taste  in  clothes.  Or,  more  bluntly, 
had  a  most  execrable  taste.  She  went  in  for  suffrage, 
feminism,  woman's  rights,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  (Here 
Janet  pricked  up  her  ears.)  So  you  might  know  what  to 
expect.  She  was,  in  short,  faddy  and  temperamental.  Her 
purchases  were  made  or  not  made,  as  the  case  might  be, 
because  the  seller  pleased  or  displeased  her.  The  articles 
themselves  were  of  quite  secondary  importance. 

"Forgive  my  curiosity,  Cornelia.  But  you  have  regiments 
of  customers.  Why  are  you  so  anxious  about  just  this 
one?" 

"What  a  question,  you  babe  in  the  wood!  Don't  you 
know  who  Mrs.  Jerome  is?" 

"I  know  she's  rich  and  that  Mr.  Pryor  had  something  to 
do  with  her  coming  here." 


362  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"That's  not  it,  child.  She's  the  American  mother  of  the 
Duchess  of  Keswick.  And  the  Duchess —  Well,  it's  Madge 
and  Mary  between  her  and  the  Queen  of  England.  Think, 
Araminta,  what  a  feather  in  our  cap,  if  we  get  the  patron- 
age of  the  Duchess  of  Keswick,  and  a  Paulette  frock  is 
worn  at  the  Court  of  St.  James!  It's  the  chance  of  a  life- 
time. You  won't  disappoint  me,  dear?" 

"No.  We'll  make  it  Madge  and  Paulette  and  Mary. 
When  is  this  dowager  Mrs.  Jerome  expected?" 

"That's  her  carriage  now,  or  I'm  very  much  mistaken," 
said  Cornelia,  all  agog.  "She  hardly  ever  uses  a  motor. 
It's  so  ordinary." 

In  some  amazement  Janet  watched  her  old  friend  going 
out  to  do  the  honors  in  the  reception  room.  What  a 
transformation  a  short  year  had  effected  in  the  Cornelia  of 
the  Lorillard  tenements!  Bohemianism,  outlawry,  and  the 
one-piece  dresses  of  Kips  Bay  seemed  remoter  than  Mars. 
Cornelia  was  attired  in  the  height  of  fashion,  her  cheeks 
were  delicately  touched  up,  her  hair  was  elaborately 
coiffured. 

Even  her  congenital  languor  had  evaporated,  for  the 
moment,  as  the  thrills  of  social  snobbery  electrified  her. 


II 


Entering  the  salon,  Janet  saw  that  Mrs.  Jerome  was  a 
podgy  little  tub  of  a  woman,  the  symbol  of  the  fortune 
which  her  father,  Theodore  Casey,  had  made  in  wash-tubs. 
She  took  a  chair  beside  the  visitor,  who  sleepily  watched  the 
crack  Paulette  manikins  whilst  they  exhibited  a  variety  of 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  363 

frocks  and  Cornelia  nervously  courted  the  favor  of  her 
outspoken  customer. 

Mrs.  Jerome  examined  one  of  the  manikins  at  close  quar- 
ters. 

"I  don't  think  much  of  your  dresses  today,"  she  said 
bluntly.  "The  lines  are  all  wrong." 

"Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Jerome,"  said  Cornelia  with  dignity. 
"But  they  ought  to  be  at  that  angle.  A  Paulette  frock  is  a 
work  of  art.  It  is  designed  to  produce  a  definite  effect  from 
a  definite  point  of  view.  The  lines  are  like  those  of  a 
Phidias  statue,  perfectly  right  at  the  proper  distance." 

"I  don't  care  if  they  do  look  like  a  Fiddlesticks  statue. 
Look  at  that  charmeuse  gown  there.  Can't  anybody  tell 
that  girl  a  mile  away  for  what  she  is?" 

"I  fear  I  don't  understand." 

"Well,  if  the  gown  don't  hide  the  fact  that  she's  a  mani- 
kin, it  won't  hide  the  fact  that  my  figure's  no  Fiddlesticks 
statue,  or  whatever  you  call  it." 

This  opinion,  delivered  in  an  unmistakable  New  York 
voice  and  accent,  made  Janet  laugh.  Not  disrespectfully. 
She  discerned  at  once  that  Mrs.  Jerome,  like  Shakespeare, 
had  far  more  native  wit  than  college  learning.  Her  judg- 
ment was  confirmed  when  the  visitor,  turning  abruptly 
towards  her,  said: 

"What  do  you  think  of  these  Paulette  dresses,  young 
lady.  I  don't  expect  you  to  say  that  they're  pretty  rotten. 
But  do  they  satisfy  the  eye?" 

"I  think,  Mrs.  Jerome,  that  if  they  don't  satisfy  the  eye, 
they'll  at  least  astound  it." 

Mrs.  Jerome  brightened  up  at  once. 

"Well,  child,"  she  said,  "when  I  want  to  astound  people, 


364  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

I'll  do  it  on  less  money  than  a  Paulette  gown  costs.  I'll 
walk  around  Columbus  Circle  in  my  bathing  suit." 

"Oh,  I'll  bet  you  do  it,  too,"  said  Janet,  at  the  top  of 
her  exuberance. 

"Do  what?"  said  Mrs.  Jerome,  now  totally  oblivious  of 
the  manikins  on  exhibition  and  of  Cornelia  on  pins  and 
needles. 

"Wear  a  bathing  suit  around  the  house.  I  used  to,  regu- 
larly. In  the  tenements  in  Kips  Bay  I  always  did  the  dishes 
in  my  bathing  suit.  Annette  Kellerman  tights,  a  skirt  to  the 
knees,  no  sleeves,  no  stockings.  A  dandy  rig-out  for  quick 
action." 

"Permit  me  to  say,  Janet — "  began  Cornelia,  in  frigid, 
authoritative  tones. 

Mrs.  Jerome  impatiently  waved  her  away,  an  indignity 
so  astounding  that  Madame  Paulette  could  scarcely  trust 
her  eyes.  Janet,  fearing  she  had  been  indiscreet,  hastened 
to  add: 

"Of  course,  Cornelia — Madame  Paulette — doesn't  allow 
it  in  Paris.  She  requires  us  to  be  perfectly  proper  here." 

"She  would!"  said  Mrs.  Jerome  significantly,  her  back 
still  turned  to  Cornelia.  "But  what  good  does  it  do  you? 
Nine-tenths  of  the  people  in  Paris  are  perfectly  proper; 
but  they  don't  look  it.  The  other  tenth  are  perfectly  im- 
proper; but  they,  as  often  as  not,  don't  look  it  either." 

The  manikins  received  another  inning.  A  brief  one, 
though,  for  Mrs.  Jerome  inspected  and  dismissed  them  in 
quick  succession. 

"Well,  well,"  she  said,  half  aloud,  "to  think  that  you 
came  from  the  tenements." 

She  gave  Janet  a  quick,  sceptical  glance. 

"I  can  scarcely  believe  it." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  365 

"I  can  scarcely  believe  it  myself,"  said  Janet,  with  a 
perfectly  straight  face. 

Cornelia  bit  her  lips  and,  flashing  an  angry  look  at  her 
friend,  went  out  of  the  salon,  unable  to  trust  her  feelings 
any  longer. 

"If  the  Duchess  got  wind  of  it,"  Mrs.  Jerome  mused  on, 
"that  would  finish  Paulette's  for  me.  She  don't  think  a 
shop  is  a  classy  shop  unless  the  proprietor  has  a  classy 
pedigree." 

"Oh,  our  pedigree  will  seem  classy  enough  to  the 
Duchess,"  said  Janet,  "if  you  don't  give  us  away.  And  you 
can't  do  that,  you  know.  I  only  told  you  in  the  strictest 
confidence." 

"Don't  you  go  shifting  your  responsibilities  on  me,  young 
woman.  If  you  want  your  secrets  kept,  you  just  keep  them 
to  yourself.  I'm  no  safe  deposit  vault  for  anyone  else's 
hidden  thoughts.  For  your  comfort  I'll  tell  you  this,  though. 
I've  never  given  my  daughter  food  or  information  that  I 
knew  she  couldn't  digest.  I'm  too  old  to  begin  doing  it  now." 

"You're  quite  right,  Mrs.  Jerome.  Things  slip  off  my 
tongue  that  oughtn't  to.  Personally,  I  don't  care  a  straw. 
But  other  people — " 

"Don't  worry  about  other  people,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Jerome,  who  had  enjoyed  the  tit-for-tat  immensely.  "I'm 
not  likely  to  desert  Madame  Paulette.  At  least  not  while 
she  keeps  anyone  with  your  healthy  face  and  fascinating 
eyes  here  to  talk  to  me.  Mind,  I'm  not  gone  on  these  Paul- 
ette frocks.  I  guess  the  Madame  knows  that  pretty  well. 
But  this  establishment  is  run  by  a  woman,  a  woman  from 
my  own  country.  That  means  a  good  deal  to  me.  For 
although  our  sex  is  coming  into  its  own,  the  pace  isn't  a 


366  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

dizzy  one.  The  men  see  to  that.  And  so  I  say,  this  is  a 
time  for  all  good  women  to  stand  by  one  another." 

The  little  lady  sank  back  in  her  seat  and,  as  though 
exhausted  by  her  long  speech,  closed  her  eyes.  When  she 
opened  them  again,  Cornelia  had  returned  and  the  parade 
of  the  manikins  was  resumed. 

This  spectacle  always  started  Janet  on  a  series  of  curious 
reflections.  As  a  result  of  the  training  in  rhythmics  which 
the  girls  received  at  the  hands  of  Harry  Kelly,  they  were 
free  from  those  grotesque  mannerisms  of  gait,  posture,  and 
demeanor  which  manikins  cultivated  and  which  were  ac- 
cepted by  the  trade  as  superlative  expressions  of  esthetic 
correctness.  Yet  Harry's  talent  yoked  to  the  service  of 
fashion  seemed  as  wasteful  a  thing  as  an  artist's  genius 
drafted  in  the  service  of  futility.  It  reminded  Janet  of  the 
story  of  the  Medici  prince  who  compelled  Michelangelo  to 
mould  a  statue  out  of  snow. 

But  to  Mrs.  Jerome  the  Paulette  manikins  were  a  sight  to 
see.  She  made  Janet  sit  on  the  lounge  beside  her  and 
coaxed  her  to  give  an  opinion  on  every  frock  subsequently 
shown.  She  purchased  all  those  that  Janet  praised  and  sev- 
eral that  she  made  fun  of. 

It  was  one  of  the  best  day's  work  that  the  sales  depart- 
ment of  Paulette's  had  ever  done. 

In  spite  of  which,  Madame  Paulette  considered  it  her 
duty  to  take  Mrs.  Jerome  to  one  side  and  apologize  for 
Janet  and  her  artless  indiscretions. 

"She  means  well,  Mrs.  Jerome,"  said  Cornelia,  defer- 
entially. "She's — well,  I  might  say,  she's  naive,  incredibly 
naive  in  matters  of  social  position.  It's  only  lack  of  train- 
ing, I  assure  you." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  367 

"Is  that  all?" 

"Yes,  she's  absolutely  ignorant  of  distinctions  of  rank. 
Absolutely.  Why,  she  would  talk  to  a  Duchess  with  no 
more  ceremony  than  to  a  scrubwoman." 

"Then  I'll  bring  the  Duchess  here  to  be  talked  to.  It 
might  do  her  good." 

"Oh,  do  bring  the  Duchess.  I  shall  be  charmed  to  dis- 
play for  her  inspection  the  best  that  the  Maison  has." 

"No  doubt.  But  let  me  give  you  a  tip.  Don't  waste 
your  time  training  that  dear  little  Janet  girl.  She'll  learn 
the  deceitful  ways  of  the  world  fast  enough,  and  no  corre- 
spondence course  needed  either." 

Janet  came  up  to  them  as  they  reached  the  outer  door. 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Jerome,  putting  her  arm  around 
Janet's  waist,  "you've  given  me  the  best  quarter  of  an  hour 
I've  had  in  Paris  these  two  months.  It's  been  a  treat,  a 
royal  treat." 

As  Cornelia  beheld  these  two,  standing  there  intertwined, 
a  strange  expression  formed  on  her  face,  an  expression  that 
bespoke  an  agonizing  doubt  of  the  sanity  of  the  universe. 

Unheeding  her,  Mrs.  Jerome  continued  to  say  to  Janet: 

"The  people  I  meet  everywhere!  In  Europe  they  pick 
my  pockets  while  they  lick  my  boots;  in  America  they  rifle 
my  purse  with  barefaced  assurance.  You  are  the  first  one 
I've  met  in  a  very  long  time  who  has  talked  to  me  as  though 
I  were  a  human  being  and  not  a  walking  cash  box." 

HI 

The  conquest  of  Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome  produced  a  sensa- 
tion in  the  Paulette  establishment.  It  also  gave  an  element 


368  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

of  security  to  Janet's  precarious  tenure  of   office   there. 

Janet  knew  full  well  that  Madame  Paulette  had  received 
her  in  the  Boulevard  Haussman  with  nothing  like  the 
enthusiasm  that  Cornelia  had  welcomed  her  in  the  Lorillard 
tenements.  In  the  interval  between  these  events  the  two 
friends  had  burned  several  bridges  behind  them. 

It  was  obvious  that  Cornelia  was  now  glutted  with  hands 
to  wait  on  her,  ears  to  pay  heed  to  her,  and  tongues  to 
flatter  her.  Her  natural  taste  for  dependents  being  com- 
pletely gratified,  she  felt  less  need  than  ever  for  friends  of 
an  independent  turn  of  mind  like  Janet. 

Moreover,  in  a  year  and  a  half  of  compact  adventure, 
Janet  had  matured  more  rapidly  than  many  young  people 
do  in  ten  years  of  tame  drifting.  Time,  which  had  whittled 
away  some  of  her  imprudence,  had  robbed  her  of  none  of 
her  daring;  it  had  left  her  with  her  almost  naive  freedom  of 
utterance  intact.  Her  candor  was  a  trait  to  which  Cornelia 
had  formerly  been  much  drawn.  But  that  was  in  the 
days  of  her  first  arrival  in  Kips  Bay,  the  days  when  the 
young  girl  had  all  but  worshipped  the  experienced  woman. 
Now  that  blind  devotion  had  given  way  to  challenging 
criticism,  Janet's  candor  seemed  far  less  attractive. 

That  is,  far  less  attractive  to  Cornelia.  As  regards  Paul- 
ette's  in  general,  Janet  was  a  great  favorite.  Her  official 
duties  were  chiefly  those  of  an  assistant  to  Harry  Kelly  in 
the  physical  training  of  the  manikins,  (a  branch  of  their 
professional  instruction  on  which  Kelly  laid  great  stress). 
She  bore  somewhat  the  same  relation  to  her  chief  that  the 
concert  master  of  an  orchestra  does  to  the  conductor.  This 
arrangement  was  Cornelia's  doing.  In  one  and  the  same 
bold  stroke  she  had  thought  to  cut  down  the  time  that  Kelly 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  369 

spent  with  the  manikins  (this  being  the  time  in  which  his 
heart  lay  most) ;  and  to  shift  to  Janet's  shoulders  the  odium 
that  frequently  devolves  on  the  deputy  chief  (who  exercises 
authority  without  possessing  power). 

But  Cornelia's  spirit  of  negation,  active  as  ever,  accom- 
plished only  one-half  of  its  object. 

Janet  discharged  her  duties  with  so  much  vivacity  and 
with  such  invincible  good-will  that  she  was  idolized  by 
everybody  in  the  Paulette  firm  from  Kelly  and  the  manikins 
down  to  the  work  girls  and  the  magnificent  porter  who  daily 
consented  to  guard  the  street  door. 

In  short,  she  was  the  life  of  the  house;  than  which,  Cor- 
nelia could  have  brought  no  stronger  indictment  against  her 
of  unimaginable  lese  majeste, 

The  two  had  a  long  private  conversation  in  Cornelia's 
office  the  day  after  Mrs.  Jerome's  visit. 

"Araminta,  you've  certainly  made  a  hit  with  the  old 
lady.  Just  as  I  predicted.  It's  a  fine  thing  for  us  both. 
Paulette's  prestige  will  go  up  and  up.  And  it  should  mean 
a  great  deal  to  you." 

"How,  I  wonder?" 

"You  can  make  her  friendship  a  stepping  stone." 

"Easy  stepping  stones  for  little  feet — so  to  speak?" 

"You  know  quite  well  what  I  mean.  Some  day  you'll  go 
back  to  America — " 

"Is  this  a  hint  or  a  prediction,  or  both — " 

"Don't  be  silly,  Janet.  I'm  thinking  of  your  future.  Your 
future  in  your  own  country,  naturally.  Mrs.  Jerome  is  a 
woman  of  enormous  influence.  You  know  how  it  is  over 
there.  Much  gold  will  wash  all  guilt  away." 


370  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"You  mean  my  chequered  past?"  asked  Janet,  with  a 
smile. 

"Yes,"  said  Cornelia,  adding  handsomely,  "although  your 
affair  with  Claude  Fontaine  will  probably  be  quite  forgotten 
by  that  time.  Nobody  will  remember  it." 

"Robert  Lloyd  will!" 

Cornelia  was  up  in  arms  at  once.  She  always  was,  when 
Janet  mentioned  Robert's  name. 

"What  difference  does  that  make?  You  aren't  going 
to  marry  him,  I  suppose?" 

"I  suppose  not.  He's  too  poor,  for  one  thing.  He  isn't 
going  to  ask  me,  for  another." 

"One  would  imagine  you  wanted  him  to,"  said  Cornelia, 
with  concise  sarcasm. 

"We  got  along  splendidly  as  partners." 

"Partners!     What  has  that  to  do  with  marriage?" 

"What  has  anything  to  do  with  marriage?  I  understood 
your  reasons  when  you  believed  that  marriage  was  a  prison. 
I  confess  I  don't  understand  your  reasons  now  that  you 
believe  marriage  to  be  a  haven  of  bliss.  Mind,  I  don't  say 
it  is  a  prison,  and  I  don't  say  that  it  isn't  a  haven  of  bliss." 

Janet  tried  to  check  her  sub-ironical  impulses:  they  were 
irrepressible. 

"I  feel  too  much  in  the  dark  about  the  whole  thing,"  she 
went  on,  "to  be  as  cocksure  as  I  used  to  be.  But  if  one  isn't 
to  marry  a  man  because  one  has  found  him  to  be  a  splendid 
companion  in  the  wear  and  tear  of  working  together,  why 
is  one  to  marry  him?" 

"How  you  do  run  on,  Araminta!  Prisons  and  hells,  Para- 
dises and  havens  of  bliss — you  jump  from  one  extreme  to 
the  other.  Who  mentioned  these  things?  My  dear,  one 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  371 

marries  a  man  because  he  calls  to  what  is  deepest  and  tru- 
est in  one.  Because  he  responds  to — " 

"The  mating  instinct?" 

"How  can  you  sit  there  and  say  such  vulgar  things?" 

"Vulgar!  Well,  you  are  going  it!  Isn't  the  mating 
instinct  as  deep  and  true  as  any  of  them?" 

"It  isn't  a  reason  for  marriage,"  said  Cornelia,  in  staccato 
accents.  "And  you  know  perfectly  well  I  never  said  or 
thought  it  was.  Quite  the  reverse.  I  opposed  marriage 
because  the  sex  instinct,  which  is  what  induces  most  people 
to  marry,  is  a  good  ground  for  a  temporary  union  but  not 
a  good  ground  for  a  permanent  one." 

"Then  there  are  good  reasons  for  a  permanent  union?" 

"Yes.  And  they  absorb  the  sex  reason  a  million  times 
over." 

"It's  easy  for  you  to  talk  like  that  Cornelia,  with  Harry 
thinking  that  the  sun  rises  in  one  of  your  eyes  and  sets  in 
the  other.  But  where  shall  7  find  a  Harry  to  be  absorbed  in 
me  a  million  times  over  like  that?" 

"If  you  go  on  making  nasty  sarcastic  replies  to  all  my 
well-meant  suggestions,  I  shall  wash  my  hands  of  you,"  said 
Cornelia,  rising  with  frigid  haughtiness. 

She  added,  on  a  superior  note: 

"You'd  better  see  a  little  less  of  poor,  bedraggled  Mazie 
Ross,  if  it's  on  her  level  that  you're  being  tempted  to  think." 

IV 

Janet  hastened  after  her  in  a  complete  change  of  mood. 

"Come  back,  Cornelia,"  she  called  out,  remorsefully.  "I 
had  no  right  to  be  sarcastic.  Forgive  me,  and  I'll  eat  all 
the  humble  pie  you  like." 


372  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Cornelia  sat  down  again. 

"This  is  a  new  tack  for  you  to  take,"  she  said,  making 
the  most  of  an  advantage  Janet  seldom  gave  her. 

"The  fact  is,  Cornelia,  I'm — my  feelings  were  ploughed 
up  today,  ploughed  up  from  top  to  bottom.  The  postman 
brought  me  an  offer  of  marriage  this  morning." 

"An  offer  of  marriage!" 

"From  Monsieur  St.  Hilaire." 

Cornelia  had  of  course  heard  the  facts  of  the  whole  St. 
Hilaire  episode.  She  also  knew  that  Janet  still  corre- 
sponded with  Henriette,  and  that  all  the  recent  letters  of 
the  girl's  father  had  been  sent  back  unopened. 

"I  thought  you  never  read  his  letters?" 

"This  one  was  folded  up  in  Henriette's  note.  I'm  sure 
the  child  wasn't  a  party  to  the  trick.  Here  it  is.  Will  you 
read  it?" 

'Cornelia  did  so. 

"Well,  I  must  say  I'm  surprised,'  she  said,  returning  the 
letter.  "He  writes  in  a  very  decent,  manly  strain.  Alto- 
gether different  from  what  I  expected.  The  devil  doesn't 
seem  to  be  nearly  as  black  as  he's  painted." 

"Oh,  he's  not  a  professional  satyr,  if  that's  what  you 
mean.  I  never  implied  that  he  was." 

Cornelia  pondered  the  matter  for  a  minute.  She  recalled 
forgotten  particulars  about  M.  St.  Hilaire,  amongst  others, 
the  account  of  his  generous  income. 

"So  he's  in  Paris  with  Henriette,"  she  mused.  "I  notice 
that  he  says  he's  coming  here  tomorrow  to  get  his  answer 
in  person.  What  will  you  do  about  it,  dear?" 

"I  wish  I  knew.  I  want  to  see  Henriette  again,  tremen- 
dously. But  I  don't  want  to  see  her  father.  Do  give  me 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  373 

your  advice,  Cornelia.    What  do  you  think  I  ought  to  do?" 

"Well,  why  not  give  him  another  chance?  He's  made 
you  a  perfectly  straight  and  honorable  offer  this  time.  As 
I  recall  the  whole  story,  he  wasn't  really  repugnant  to  you, 
except  at  that  one  time." 

"No.  But  am  I  lightly  to  forget  that  he— that  he 
touched  me  without  my  consent,  presuming  to  think  that, 
because  I  had  loved  one  man,  my  body  was  at  the  free  dis- 
posal of  all  men?" 

"It  was  a  wretched  mistake  to  make — " 

"A  mistake!  It  was  a  monstrous  piece  of  stupidity  and 
impudence." 

"Quite  so,  my  dear.  I'm  not  standing  up  for  him.  Still, 
don't  let  us  forget  that  men  are  not  built  like  women." 

"That's  a  truth  that  cuts  both  ways,  isn't  it?"  said  Janet. 

She  had  given  up  being  astonished  at  Cornelia's  peculiar 
mixture  of  the  old  and  the  new  in  the  matter  of  theories 
about  men  and  women.  She  merely  wondered  to  what  weird 
angle  Cornelia  meant  to  shift  her  outlook  now. 

"The  point  is,"  continued  Cornelia  serenely,  "that  a 
woman's  sex  emotion  is  generally  excited  by  something  that 
takes  her  fancy;  a  man's,  by  something  that  stirs  his  blood. 
The  mind  plays  the  bigger  part  in  the  one  case,  the  body 
in  the  other.  That's  why,  in  the  duel  of  sex,  the  psycho- 
logical moment  is  so  important  to  the  woman,  the  physio- 
logical moment  to  the  man. 

"These  acute  distinctions  are  quite  beyond  me.  A  man 
has  as  much  gray  matter  as  a  woman,  or  even  more.  Then 
why  should  he  let  his  mental  processes  suffer  paralysis 
whenever  a  nice  woman  looks  at  him?" 

"Well,  that's  one  of  the  mysteries  that  marriage  helps  us 


374  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

to  understand,  Araminta.  In  the  life  of  a  man  there  come 
these  physiological  moments,  these  sex  storms,  different 
from  anything  in  the  experience  of  a  woman.  I  don't  mean 
to  say  that  men  have  more  physical  passion  than  women. 
But  there  are  occasions  when  their  physical  passion  takes 
a  more  violently  concentrated  form.  Mazie,  in  her  vulgar 
little  way,  isn't  so  far  wrong  when  she  says:  'Scratch  a  fine 
gentleman,  and  you'll  find  a  cave  man.' " 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  there  are  absolutely  no 
men  who  feel  about  love  as  we  do?" 

"I've  never  met  one.      Have  you?" 

Janet  was  thinking:  "Surely  Robert  isn't  like  that!" 
Aloud  she  said  nothing.  There  was  a  dangerous  glint  in 
her  friend's  eyes.  Cornelia  had  an  uncanny  way  of  pene- 
trating one's  thoughts  when  Robert  was  the  object  of  them. 
Had  she  accomplished  this  feat  of  divination  again?  At  all 
events,  an  acrid  note  entered  her  voice  as  she  continued: 

"Is  it  really  only  Monsieur  St.  Hilaire  that  you  can't 
make  up  your  mind  about?  If  so,  take  my  advice.  Come 
down  off  your  high  horse  and  make  the  most  of  your  good 
fortune." 

"My  good  fortunel" 

"Let's  be  perfectly  frank  with  each  other,  my  dear. 
Here's  a  man  who  wants  to  marry  you.  He's  well-born, 
cultivated,  rich.  His  one  child  is  a  girl  who  adores  you  and 
whom  you  adore.  The  only  thing  against  him  is  that  he 
once  committed  a  serious  breach  of  decorum — " 

"And  that  I  don't  love  him — "  interpolated  Janet. 

Cornelia  blandly  ignored  the  interruption. 

"His  letter  shows,"  she  went  on,  "that  he  is  willing  to 
make  the  most  handsome  amends,  the  only  amends  a  man 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  375 

can  make  in  a  matter  of  this  sort.  What  more  do  you  ask?" 

"I'm  not  asking  him  for  amends.  I  simply  want  to  be  let 
alone." 

"Araminta,  let  me  beg  you  not  to  deceive  yourself  about 
the  changing  moral  values  we  hear  so  much  of  nowadays. 
Has  the  price  of  virginity  really  gone  down?  Judged  by 
the  conversation  of  radicals  and  Outlaws,  yes.  Judged  by 
the  ticker  of  the  matrimonial  exchange,  it  is  still  pretty 
high.  Bear  that  in  mind,  and  remember  that  a  bird  in  the 
hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  exclaimed  Janet,  in  great  aston- 
ishment, "that  you,  of  all  people,  advise  me  to  accept  this 
offer?" 

Her  tone  irritated  Cornelia. 

"Beggars  can't  be  choosers,"  she  began. 

"They  can  remain  beggars,"  replied  Janet  tersely. 

"If  that's  the  way  you  feel  about  it,  you  needn't  ask  my 
advice  again.  We're  wasting  each  other's  time." 

Saying  which,  Cornelia  rose  and  left  the  office. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIX 


The  Paillette  manikins,  famed  throughout  the  world  of 
fashion  for  their  grace  in  attitude  and  correctness  in  posi- 
tion and  movement,  owed  their  prestige  to  a  system  of 
hygienic  training  conceived  and  carried  out  by  Harry  Kelly 
himself.  Yet  these  young  ladies  took  their  distinction  so 
seriously  that  they  held  it  beneath  them  to  assist  their  chief 
in  straightening  out  the  classroom  disorder  when  the  period 
of  instruction  was  over. 

"Here's  a  mess!"  called  out  Mazie  Ross,  walking  into  the 
Paulette  gymnasium,  immediately  after  the  dismissal  of  a 
small  class  of  manikins.  "You  might  think  they'd  been  on 
a  grand  jamboree." 

"Anything  up?"  said  Harry,  shortly. 

"Janet  asked  me  to  help  you  this  morning." 

"What  for?" 

"She  went  out  for  a  horseback  ride  with  the  St. 
Hilaires." 

"This  morning.  Why,  as  it  is,  she  goes  almost  every 
afternoon.  She  went  yesterday  afternoon.  A  fine  way  to 
do  business,  I'll  say." 

Mazie  sulkily  began  to  pick  up  stray  articles. 

"You  needn't  pitch  into  me,  Harry,"  she  said.  "You're 
not  half  so  sorry  as  I  am  that  your  gentle  Janet  isn't  here 
to  do  this  rotten  job.  Is  it  my  fault?" 

"Does  Cornelia  know  she's  away?"  said  Kelly,  fuming. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  377 

"Can  a  cat  miaow  within  a  mile  of  these  precincts  without 
Corny  being  on  to  it?" 

"Why  don't  they  keep  me  posted  then?  I  never  hear  of 
a  blessed  thing  that  goes  on  in  my  own  home  until  it's  all 
over." 

"Say,  do  you  want  to  start  a  row?  Then  take  a  tip  from 
me  and  land  into  a  certain  party  in  the  main  office.  If 
you'd  knock  her  down  and  then  jump  on  her  with  both  feet, 
you'd  be  doing  something.  What's  the  use  of  picking  on 
a  dead  bird  like  me?" 

"Don't  talk  that  way  about  Cornelia,"  said  Harry, 
fumbling  amongst  the  papers  on  the  desk,  and  trying  vainly 
to  be  stern.  "I've  told  you  before  I  won't  have  it.  Where's 
your  gratitude?" 

She  made  a  face  at  him  behind  his  back. 

"Gratitude!"  she  said.  "What's  the  good  of  me  wasting 
gratitude  on  Cornelia  when  she  reminds  herself  and  every- 
body in  Paulette's  daily  that  she  picked  me  up  out  of  the 
gutter  that  Hutch  left  me  in?" 

"Lock  up  the  wardrobe  and  clear  out,  will  you?"  said 
Kelly,  frigidly.  "I  can  do  the  rest  myself." 

"Here's  your  hat,  what's  your  hurry,"  she  muttered  to  her- 
self. But  she  stayed  and  continued  to  put  things  to  rights. 

Mazie  had  changed  greatly  since  the  palmy  days  of  the 
Lorillard  tenements.  She  looked  ill  and  haggard,  a  mere 
shadow  of  the  jaunty  "Follies"  girl  of  old.  Her  willowy 
posture  had  degenerated  into  an  undisguised  slouch,  her 
hair  was  frowsy,  and  her  dress  was  slung  together. 

But  her  tongue  had  not  lost  its  stab. 

She  closed  the  wardrobe  door  with  an  unintentional  slam 
that  caused  Harry  Kelly  to  jump  up  in  his  seat. 


378  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Damn!"  he  said,  in  that  mild  voice  of  his. 

It  was  as  if  Vesuvius  had  emitted  a  puff  of  tobacco  smoke. 

The  metamorphosis  of  the  "Harlem  Gorilla"  into  the 
husband  of  Madame  Paulette  was  astoundingly  complete. 
Harry  Kelly's  Van  Dyke  beard  and  fashionably  tailored 
clothes  alone  would  have  effected  a  radical  change  in  his 
appearance.  Kelly  was  transformed  not  only  physically  but 
psychically.  His  muscles  were  still  the  muscles  of  a  Titan, 
but  his  nerves  had  become  the  nerves  of  a  fanciful  man  or 
a  delicate  woman. 

Mazie,  who  was  no  student  of  spiritual  transformations, 
went  up  to  the  desk  at  which  Kelly  sat  and  began  to  tidy  it. 
She  whisked  away  stray  papers  and  envelopes  that  lay  near 
his  hands  with  much  the  same  air  that  a  waiter  lashes  the 
crumbs  off  a  table  to  speed  the  lingering  guest. 

He  grew  more  and  more  fidgety,  but  she  showed  him  no 
mercy. 

"Janet  didn't  know  those  St.  Hilaires  were  coming  this 
morning,"  she  finally  volunteered.  "But  you  can  gamble 
on  it  that  Cornelia  knew.  When  my  fine  gentleman  got 
off  his  prancing  horse  and  marched  into  the  reception  room, 
clanking  spurs  and  all,  Corny  was  right  there  on  the  job 
in  her  softest,  sweetest  tone.  My!  butter  wouldn't  melt  in 
her  mouth.  And  all  the  time  Janet  hangs  in  the  back- 
ground, saying  she's  too  busy  to  go  out,  and  looking  as 
stubborn  as  a  mule.  When  gentle  Janet  gets  that  stubborn 
expression,  it  means:  You  can  move  the  Woolworth  Build- 
ing, but  you  can't  move  me!" 

"Then  why  in  thunder  did  she  go?" 

"Because  that  St.  Hilaire  kid  got  busy  with  her.  A 
pretty  little  kid,  a  regular  father's  darling,  the  kind  that 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  379 

coos  away  like  a  turtledove  till  she  gets  everything  she 
wants  and  a  tidy  slice  of  the  moon  extra.  Well,  she  draped 
herself  pathetically  around  Janet  —  all  that  heartstring 
stuff — and  Janet,  like  any  fool  of  a  man,  fell  for  the 
pathos." 

"You  can't  persuade  me  that  Janet  didn't  want  to  go," 
said  Kelly,  gloomily. 

"I  won't  try  to,  then.  Just  the  same,  she  didn't.  That's 
the  weird  part  of  it." 

"What's  weird  about  it?" 

"Why,  she  doesn't  want  to  marry  that  millionaire  and 
he's  crazy  to  get  her.  Gee,  some  people  have  all  the  luck." 

"If  she  doesn't  want  him,  where's  the  luck?"  said  Kelly, 
with  the  logic  of  simplicity. 

"Harry,  don't  be  a  nut.  Here's  the  A  B  C  of  it.  All  my 
love  affairs  were  on  the  q.  t.,  though  I  say  it  that  shouldn't. 
Everything  respectable  and  under  cover.  Nobody  rattled 
my  adventures  in  the  ears  of  the  public,  did  they?  Yet, 
from  the  way  everybody  points  the  finger  of  scorn  at  me, 
you'd  think  I  produced  the  whole  Venusburg  show  and 
ran  it  single-handed.  Now  look  at  Janet.  She  hops  off 
with  young  Claude  Fontaine  right  under  the  eyes  of  the 
moving-picture  brigade.  The  front  pages  of  all  the  leading 
papers  give  her  a  full  week's  publicity.  She  boards  with 
Claude  for  a  month  or  two,  carefully  omitting  even  the 
formality  of  a  fake  wedding  ring.  She  lives  in  sin  I  But 
everybody  shies  at  using  'them  crooel  woids.'  And  what  are 
the  wages  of  sin?  A  couple  of  millionaires  pining  away 
on  her  doorstep  and  Sousa's  band  a-playing  at  her  feet. 
And  she's  no  great  beauty  at  that." 

"Quit  it,  Mazie.     What's  the  good  of  fooling  yourself 


380  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

with  the  idea  that  Janet  hasn't  had  her  troubles.  My  guess 
is  that  Claude  threw  her  overboard." 

"Well,  you  can  guess  again,  my  simple  Samson." 

"Anyhow,  they  wouldn't  have  separated  in  a  few  weeks 
unless  there  had  been  a  fierce  blow-out,  would  they?  That's 
the  kind  of  thing  that  can  hurt  a  whole  lot,  a  whole  lot 
more  than  shows  on  the  surface.  A  sensitive  girl  like 
Janet!  By  thunder,  we  don't  know  what  she  went  through, 
do  we?  She's  not  the  sort  that  wears  her  feelings  on  her 
sleeve." 

"In  other  words:  'Gentle  Janet  meek  and  mild,' "  said 
Mazie  witheringly.  "What  that  girl  can't  get  away  with! 
I'd  like  to  go  through  a  few  of  her  sufferings,  I  would.  I'd 
like  to  see  yours  truly  riding  horseback  every  day  in  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne  with  a  plutocrat  by  my  side  and  a  couple 
of  grooms  toddling  along  in  back.  There's  a  terrible  pen- 
ance for  you!  And  to  think  I  can't  even  get  a  second- 
hand man  to  take  me  to  a  third-rate  cabaret  in  Montmartre. 
Me,  Mazie  Ross,  the  wickedest  girl  in  the  wickedest  city  in 
the  world.  Gee,  life  is  tough!" 

"You've  seen  enough  cabarets  to  be  sick  of  them — and 
you  are  sick  of  them,"  said  Kelly,  with  unwonted  harshness. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  my  cabaret  days  are  over.  But  listen  to 
me.  There'll  be  no  more  skylarking  for  gentle  Janet  as 
soon  as  Cornelia  engineers  her  marriage  with  the  Alsatian." 

"Janet's  marriage  is  none  of  your  business,  and  none  of 
Cornelia's  either." 

"You  don't  say  so?  Well,  you  just  tell  the  Empress  that 
yourself." 

Mazie,  with  her  hand  over  her  mouth,  flung  these  words 
at  him  just  as  Cornelia  entered  the  gymnasium. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  381 

n 

With  the  expression  of  a  tragedy  queen  Cornelia  came  in 
and  handed  Kelly  a  telegram. 

"From  Robert! "  she  said,  in  a  voice  choked  with  emotion. 
He  took  it  and  read: 

Am  leaving  Geneva  International  Labor  Conference 
tonight.  Hope  to  see  you  and  Janet  in  Paris  tomorrow. 

Robert  Lloyd. 

"That's  one  on  us!"  remarked  Kelly,  awkwardly,  and  a 
little  afraid  of  the  storm  signals  in  Cornelia's  eyes. 

His  fatuous  slang  irritated  her  enormously. 

"Isn't  it  like  Robert  to  turn  up  at  the  most  inconvenient 
time  imaginable?  Just  as  Janet  is  on  the  point  of  being 
engaged!  It  spoils  everything." 

"How  did  he  locate  us,  I  wonder?"  said  Kelly  lamely. 
"I  thought  you  had  lost  all  track  of  him.' 

When  they  had  taken  over  Paulette's,  Cornelia  had 
insisted  on  ruthlessly  dropping  former  friends  in  impover- 
ished circumstances  on  the  plea  that  every  connection  that 
was  not  an  asset  was  a  liability.  It  had  been  a  sore  point 
between  the  two  at  first. 

"Pryor — the  meddling  fool — probably  put  him  onto  us," 
replied  Cornelia.  "Now  everything's  sure  to  go  to  pot 
unless  we  can  keep  Robert  from  interfering.  As  long  as 
he's  around,  Janet  will  never  marry  Monsieur  St.  Hilaire." 

"She's  just  crazy  enough  to  throw  away  the  chance  of  a 
lifetime,"  said  Mazie,  judging  it  expedient  to  chime  in  with 
Cornelia. 

"I  don't  believe  she'll  marry  St.  Hilaire,  anyway,"  said 


382  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Kelly,  with  the  obstinacy  of  a  mild  nature.  "She  doesn't 
love  him,  to  begin  with.  And  she  isn't  the  sort  that'll  do 
a  thing  simply  because  other  people  say  that  it's  good  for 
her.  She's  the  sort  of  girl  that  shapes  her  own  future." 

"You're  as  big  a  fool  as  Pryor,"  said  Cornelia,  flinging 
tempestuously  out  of  the  gymnasium. 

Poor  Kelly  was  crestfallen.  He  walked  sadly  to  a  win- 
dow, opened  it,  and  took  several  deep  breaths,  his  infallible 
remedy  for  depression  of  spirits.  Mazie,  relieved  at  Cor- 
nelia's exit,  lighted  a  cigarette  and  waited  for  him  to  finish. 

"Why  is  she  so  blamed  anxious  to  have  Janet  marry 
this  St.  Hilaire?"  he  asked,  turning  slowly  from  the  window. 

"Why?    Ha,  ha,  the  poor  fish  asks  me  why?" 

She  punctuated  the  question  with  a  hollow  laugh. 

"Only  because  Janet  doesn't  want  to  marry  him,"  she 
went  on,  perching  herself  jauntily  on  the  desk.  "Why, 
Simple  Simon,  the  old  girl  would  have  nothing  left  to  live 
for,  if  she  couldn't  make  people  do  what  they  don't  want 
to  do.  Or,  at  least,  if  she  couldn't  prevent  them  from  doing 
what  they  do  want  to  do — " 

The  door  flew  open. 

"So  that's  the  way  you  talk  about  me  behind  my  back?" 
cried  Cornelia,  the  picture  of  outraged  majesty. 

Mazie  rapidly  came  down  from  her  perch  and  slunk  out 
of  the  room. 

The  intruder  turned  her  guns  upon  her  husband. 

"And  you  encouraging  the  little  snake.  I  wonder  you 
don't  summon  the  whole  staff  in  here  to  plot  against  me." 

Kelly,  dismayed  and  crushed,  received  the  broadside  with 
head  bowed. 

Cornelia   expressed   her   passionate    resentment    at    the 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  383 

universal  treachery  and  ingratitude.  This  was  her  reward 
for  helping  girls  in  the  plight  that  Mazie  and  Janet  were 
in!  She  had  put  all  the  social  and  material  resources  of 
Paulette's  at  the  disposal  of  Janet  in  order  that,  by  a  most 
fortunate  marriage,  a  well-nigh  irretrievable  blunder  might 
be  retrieved.  She  had  herself  strained  every  nerve  to  help 
the  girl  to  obliterate  her  past.  And  what  were  her  thanks? 
The  unfeeling  ingrate  acted  as  if  she  hardly  realized  that 
there  was  a  past  to  obliterate.  She  now  washed  her  hands 
of  the  whole  business.  Never  again — . 

And  so  on. 

Had  Harry  Kelly  been  of  an  inquiring  turn  of  mind  he 
might  have  ascertained  whether  or  no  Cornelia's  fury  was 
in  part  due  to  being  frustrated  in  the  desire  to  get  Janet 
off  her  conscience,  and  in  part  to  being  thwarted  herself  in 
that  game  of  thwarting  others  at  which  Mazie  had  pro- 
nounced her  an  expert. 

As  it  was,  he  listened  like  a  Mohammedan  prostrated  be- 
fore the  muezzin.  His  silent  prayer  was  that  when  Cor- 
nelia's rage  had  spent  itself,  she  would  not  refuse  to  bestow 
upon  him  a  little  of  that  affection  for  which  he  passion- 
ately and  hopelessly  craved. 

Ill 

A  few  hours  later,  Janet  and  Mazie  were  alone  in  the 
gymnasium,  the  former  greatly  excited  about  the  news  from 
Robert. 

"It's  a  pity  he  didn't  think  of  looking  you  up  a  little 
sooner,"  said  Mazie  who  was  in  a  mood  for  throwing  cold 
water  on  enthusiasms  that  strayed  her  way. 


384  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Janet  was  a  little  dashed  by  this  reminder  of  Robert's 
indifference  to  her  fate. 

"All  the  same,"  she  said,  "I  shall  enjoy  introducing  him 
to  Paris,  as  he  once  introduced  me  to  Manhattan." 

"What,  the  Eiffel  Tower,  The  Champs  Elysees,  the  Boul. 
Mich.,  the  American  Quarter,  and  all  the  other  rubberneck 
sights?" 

"No,  I'll  show  him  the  places  he'll  like:  the  office  in 
L'Humanite  where  Jaures  worked,  the  central  hall  of  the 
Confederation  Generate  de  Travail,  and  the  Seine  by  moon- 
light." 

"The  Seine  by  moonlight!  Now  we're  coming  to  it. 
Janet,  you're  getting  sentimental.  Do  you  think  Robert 
is  coming  particularly  for  you?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  hope  I  know  him  better  than  that." 

"Then  what  is  he  coming  for?  To  see  me?  I  don't 
think.  And  if  ever  he  was  stuck  on  Cornelia,  he  took  the 
cure  complete,  as  soon  as  you  breezed  along." 

"Nonsense,  Mazie.  Perhaps  he  has  made  a  fortune  and, 
in  passing,  means  to  drop  in  on  his  poor  relations." 

"Robert  rich?"  Mazie  laughed  the  idea  to  scorn.  "A  man 
who  likes  work  for  its  own  sake  will  never  have  a  stiver 
to  his  name." 

She  ventured  to  surmise  that  all  his  expenses  were  being 
paid  by  some  labor  organization.  That  was  the  way  with 
these  professional  radicals.  They  traveled  around  the 
world  on  their  own  wits  and  on  somebody  else's  money. 
They  never  succeeded  in  making  even  a  bowing  acquaint- 
ance with  a  check  account.  Never.  She  trusted  Janet 
would  not  be  such  a  fool  as  to  forget  this  fact.  Now,  M. 
St.  Hilaire  was  a  very  different  story. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  385 

"Marry  a  rich  man,  Janet,  and  the  memory  of  that 
Claude  affair  will  die  a  natural  death.  Marry  a  poor  one, 
and  it  will  keep  on  bobbing  up." 

"I  shouldn't  care  if  it  did." 

"No,  you  wouldn't,  but  your  husband  would." 

"So  my  friends  are  at  some  pains  to  remind  me,"  said 
Janet,  rather  bitterly.  "You  and  Cornelia  keep  on  telling 
me  so,  and  Robert  once  expressed  the  same  opinion." 

"Well,  he  was  right.  I  don't  say  it  from  spite,  like  Cor- 
nelia does.  I  say  it  because  I'm — because  I'm  damned  fond 
of  you — " 

She  repressed  the  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"You're  the  only  one  here,"  she  went  on,  choking  down  a 
sob,  "that  doesn't  treat  me  as  though  I  was  an  escaped 
inmate  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  and  ought  to  be  sent  back 
there." 

Janet  went  to  her  side  and  comforted  her.  But  Mazie 
would  not  be  comforted.  She  burst  out  with: 

"The  trouble  with  us  girls  is  that  we're  too  soft  about 
love,  as  soft  as  putty.  What  good  does  all  this  talk  and  fuss 
about  the  equality  of  women  do  us?  Where  does  it  get  us? 
Just  exactly  nowhere.  And  women  won't  be  worth  as 
much  as  men,  until  they're  as  hard  about  love  as  men  are; 
and  that  means  as  hard  as  nails." 

Divining  Janet's  silent  comment,  Mazie  added  defiantly 
that  it  was  because  she  herself  hadn't  been  hard  enough 
that  she  had  come  to  grief  at  the  hands  of  "that  swine 
Hutchins." 

After  a  marked  pause,  Mazie  reverted  to  the  subject  of 
M.  St.  Hilaire.  Had  he  proposed  as  usual  during  the 
morning's  ride? 


386  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Yes,"  said  Janet. 

"No  other  news?" 

"He  assured  me  that  I  could  have  everything  I  wanted. 
Even  my  soul  should  be  my  own." 

"I  don't  like  that  sob  stuff  about  souls,"  said  Mazie 
whimsically.  "What  did  you  answer?" 

"I  told  him  that  women  would  never  be  able  to  call  their 
souls  their  own  until  they  could  call  their  bodies  their  own." 

"My  God,  Janet!  You  have  to  give  the  poor  man  some- 
thing for  his  money." 

"Exactly.  And  as  I  can't  give  him  a  fair  return  for  it, 
it's  clear  that  I  oughtn't  to  marry  him,  isn't  it?" 

"Fair  return!  Did  you  ever  see  anybody  give  a  fair 
return  in  this  sex  business?  I  can  gamble  on  it  you  didn't. 
Fair  return!  Look  here,  Janet,  who  started  putting  a  price 
on  love?  Did  women  start  it  or  did  men?  Was  it  men  or 
women  that  threw  love  on  the  curb  to  be  bought  and  sold 
with  other  junk?  Say,  did  you  ever  see  a  man  who'd  take 
love  for  a  free  gift?  Let  me  give  you  a  tip,  dearie.  If  a 
woman  don't  sell  her  love  for  all  she  can  squeeze  out  of  a 
man,  and  give  him  underweight  into  the  bargain,  the  man 
don't  think  he's  getting  his  money's  worth." 

She  went  on  to  say  that  every  relation  between  the  sexes 
was  a  case  of  the  shearer  and  the  sheep.  Somebody  was 
certain  to  be  shorn.  The  man  would  fleece  the  woman 
unless  the  woman  fleeced  the  man. 

"And  here's  another  tip,  my  gentle  Janet.  When  Cor- 
nelia sees  you  prancing  off  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  with 
Monsieur  St.  Hilaire,  she  don't  believe  you're  putting  up 
with  him  because  you  dote  on  Henriette,  Not  for  a  mo- 
ment. Well  then,  there'll  be  a  rude  awakening  for  some- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  387 

body.     If  you  don't  fleece  St.    Hilaire,    she'll    skin   you. 
She'll  have  you  in  her  power  at  last." 

"No,  she  won't.  Mazie,  I'd  like  to  tell  you  something. 
But  I  don't  want  Cornelia  to  know.  Will  you  promise  not 
to  tell  her?" 

"Will  I  promise  not  to  feed  cakes  to  a  crocodile?" 

"Mrs.  Jerome  has  offered  me  a  job." 

"Well,  I'll  hand  it  to  gentle  Janet.  You'll  be  going  to 
heaven  on  a  feather  bed  next.  What's  the  job?" 

"I  don't  know  yet.  She  doesn't  either.  She  has  some 
scheme  in  mind  for  helping  professional  women  to  make 
their  way  in  the  world.  My  work  is  to  come  out  of  that. 
Just  the  sort  of  work  I  have  most  at  heart.  Do  you  re- 
member the  plan  I  had  when  we  lived  in  Kips  Bay,  the  plan 
of  creating  a  new  profession  for  women?  What  a  magnifi- 
cent castle  in  the  air  it  was!  Robert  helped  me  carry  the 
first  brick  or  two  down  to  earth  where  we  could  build  on 
solid  ground.  By  the  way,  I  told  Mrs.  Jerome  all  about 
Barr  and  Lloyd." 

"Did  you  tell  all  about  Barr  and  Fontaine,  too?" 

"No,"  said  Janet,  swallowing  this  bitter  pill  with  some 
resentment.  "But  I  will,  before  I  accept  her  offer." 

"And  you  think  it  won't  make  any  difference  to  her?" 

"No.  She's  a  woman  with  a  great  deal  of  good  sense.  She 
sizes  you  up  by  your  future,  not  by  your  past." 

"Janet,  you  are  a  clip,"  said  Mazie,  with  immense  ad- 
miration. "Aren't  you  afraid  of  the  future?  Adventures 
can  break  a  girl  as  well  as  make  her.  Look  how  they've 
broken  me." 

"Mazie,  don't  be  a  fool,"  said  Janet,  putting  her  arm 
around  the  sick  girl.  "You're  not  half  broken  yet.  You're 


388  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

only  a  bit  cracked.  And  for  your  comfort  I'll  tell  you  what 
Robert  once  said.  He  said  nowadays  everybody  was  a  bit 
cracked — especially  in  the  head." 

"Where's  the  comfort  in  that?" 

"Why,  it's  the  cracked  pitcher  that  goes  longest  to  the 
well,  goose.  That's  what  I  tell  myself  when  I  get  the 
blues." 

"Do  you,  too,  get  in  a  blue  funk,  sometimes?  I  don't 
believe  it.  I  always  think  of  you  as  being  the  twin  sister 
of  the  man  in  the  fairy  tale,  the  man  who  couldn't  be 
taught  to  shiver  or  shake.  You're  a  wonderful  girl,  Janet. 
Still,  I'd  like  to  see  a  man  come  along  some  day  and  make 
you  shiver  and  shake  just  a  teeny-weeny  bit.  Perhaps 
Robert  will." 

"Ah,  Mazie,  do  you  think  he'll  try?" 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVEN 
I 

She  was  present,  with  the  other  principals  of  the  Maison 
Paulette,  the  night  that  Robert  arrived.  Her  heart  beat 
faster  when  she  set  eyes  on  him  again.  He  seemed  perfectly 
collected  (too  perfectly  collected!)  though  very  cordial. 
How  was  she  to  tell,  amidst  so  much  handshaking  and 
greeting  that  his  heart  was  beating  time  with  hers? 

The  thing  she  was  most  conscious  of  was  that  one  look 
of  his  mobile  brown  eyes  had  given  a  strangely  different 
twist  to  her  adventure  with  Claude  Fontaine.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  experience  she  felt  uncomfortably  on  the  de- 
fensive. 

She  resented  this  novel  sensation.  She  regarded  it  with 
hostility,  as  though  it  were  some  treacherous  thread  that 
crossed  her  homespun  integrity.  To  think  that  Robert 
should  be  its  agent!  Or  could  she  be  mistaken?  No.  It 
appeared  that  even  the  most  charitable  of  human  beings 
liked  to  see  you  in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  and  looking  re- 
morseful, conscience  stricken,  punished.  Well,  she  had  not 
given  Cornelia  the  satisfaction  of  looking  so,  nor  Harry 
Kelly,  nor  Mazie  Ross,  nor  anybody.  And  Robert  should 
be  no  exception. 

With  defiant  vigor  she  resolved  that,  as  she  had  no  cause 
to  acknowledge  remorse,  fifty  Roberts  should  not  make  her 
acknowledge  it. 

There  was  little  time  that  night  for  an  interchange  of 


390  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

news.  Next  morning,  the  machinery  of  the  Paulette  estab- 
lishment, too  big  to  be  suspended  for  a  mere  visitor,  auto- 
matically began  its  daily  grind. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  Janet  caught  fleeting  glimpses 
of  Robert,  little  more.  Cornelia  kept  him  under  her  wing 
and  guarded  him  as  carefully  as  though  he  were  a  crown 
jewel.  She  went  so  far  as  to  relieve  Harry  Kelly  of  the 
half-hour's  treat  he  had  promised  himself,  the  treat  of 
showing  Robert  the  sights  of  the  great  Maison. 

Cornelia  not  only  undertook  the  ceremony  herself;  she 
protracted  the  ritual  far  beyond  her  husband's  intentions. 
Cato's  complete  mentor,  that  was  what  she  blandly  con- 
stituted herself.  All  that  poor  Hercules  could  do  was  to 
leave  his  work  once  in  a  while,  dash  hastily  to  whatever 
quarter  of  the  building  his  wife  had  conducted  Robert,  slap 
the  visitor  gently  on  the  back,  and  fling  a  gloomy  mono- 
syllable at  him  by  way  of  showing  his  good  will.  He  in- 
sisted that  Robert  was  too  thin,  and  trotted  out  his  famous 
formula. 

"You  don't  breathe  deep  and  down  enough,  old  boy.  Fill 
your  lungs  and  your  belly  with  good  fresh  wind,  or  you'll 
never  travel  on  asphalt." 

Cornelia  had  ceased  to  shudder  at  the  inelegant  word. 
But  Mazie,  happening  to  pop  in  at  the  moment,  promptly 
caught  it  up  and  used  the  occasion  to  favor  the  two  men 
with  a  fusillade  of  flippant,  slangy  phrases,  not  forgetting  to 
add  several  thinly  veiled  impudences  directed  at  the  mis- 
tress of  the  house  before  the  latter  had  time  to  expel  her. 

Cornelia  herself  suffered  so  many  interruptions  that  even 
she  had  to  postpone  the  confidential  talk  she  had  planned 
to  hold  with  Robert  before  noon.  After  lunch,  she  allowed 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  391 

Robert  to  take  his  first  stroll  through  Paris  alone,  remind- 
ing him  to  come  back  for  an  early  dinner  at  half  past  six. 
According  to  her  plan,  the  evening  was  to  be  spent  in  a 
general  confab  and  merrymaking. 

Unluckily,  she  forgot  to  announce  this  plan  in  so  many 
words,  but  took  it  for  granted  that  no  move  involving 
Robert  would  be  made  that  day  without  first  consulting 
her.  Her  overconfidence  defeated  her.  In  one  of  the  few 
moments  when  she  was  off  guard,  Janet  contrived  to  get 
Robert  by  himself  and  secured  his  joyful  acceptance  of  an 
invitation  to  a  concert  in  the  evening,  for  which  she 
chanced  to  have  two  tickets. 

When  Cornelia  heard  of  it,  she  was  in  turn  astounded  and 
furious.  Privately,  to  Harry  and  Mazie,  she  described  Janet 
concisely  as  a  selfish  beast.  In  public,  she  kept  herself 
commendably  in  hand. 

The  dinner  passed  off  without  much  hilarity  and  with  no 
incidents  other  than  one  or  two  casual  allusions,  on  Cor- 
nelia's part,  to  M.  St.  Hilaire. 

As  Janet  went  out  with  Robert,  Kelly,  full  of  mournful 
resignation,  hoped  that  their  purses  would  survive  the 
brigandage,  and  their  lives  the  epileptic  locomotion,  of  the 
Paris  taxi-cab  drivers.  Mazie  called  out: 

"Janet,  my  gentle  pet,  don't  let  Rob  land  by  mistake  into 
the  Miroir  de  Venus."  (This  was  a  cafe  notorious  for  its 
high  jinks.) 

"Why  not?" 

"He  might  reform  the  joint,  before  the  joint  reforms 
him." 


392  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

II 

They  got  into  an  Odeon  bus. 

On  their  way  via  the  Boulevard  des  Italiennes  to  the 
Seine,  she  named  a  few  of  the  sights  they  passed,  such  as 
the  Theatre  Frangais  and  the  Tuileries.  Crossing  the  Pont 
du  Carrousel,  the  bus  jounced  him  against  her  and,  as  she 
thrilled  to  the  touch,  she  felt  his  magnetic  response. 

Yet,  outwardly,  a  year  and  a  half  had  not  changed  him 
greatly,  she  thought.  There  was  the  same  fire  in  his  eyes 
(but  wasn't  there  perhaps  a  shade  less  of  friendliness?).  He 
listened  as  politely  as  ever  to  routine  chit-chat,  and  ex- 
hibited the  same  impetuous  candor  when  the  conversation 
flung  up  a  new  idea. 

"You  haven't  changed  much,  either,"  he  said,  rather  sud- 
denly, as  though  he  had  divined  her  reflections.  "Your  con- 
tours are  a  little  rounder,  that's  all,  and  I  think  your  chin 
is  much  firmer." 

"And  my  big  nose?" 
He  pretended  to  appraise  it  judicially. 
"It's  a  size  smaller.    Perhaps  a  size  and  a  half." 
She  laughed  delightedly.    It  was  a  new  thing  for  Robert 
to  pay  attention  to  such  physical  details. 

"Well,  as  long  as  you  say  it's  a  change  for  the  better — " 
"I  don't,"  he  said,  affecting  a  stern  tone.     "Not  in  the 
least.    Do  you  know  what?    I'm  afraid  you're  fast  turning 
yourself  into  one  of  these  popular  Paul  Helleu  beauties,  a 
Parisian  version  of  the  Penrhyn  Stanlaws  girl." 
"I  wish  I  could.    But  I'm  not  a  magician,  Robert." 
"Oh,  there's  no  magic  about  it.    Any  girl  can  do  it,  if — " 
"If,  of  course.    Let's  hear  the  gigantic  */." 
"If  she  has  a  very  moderate  allotment  of  brains  and 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  393 

looks,  and  a  single-minded  passion  for  beautifying  herself." 

"If  this  is  praise,  give  me  dispraise,"  she  said,  with  a  mis- 
chievous gleam  in  her  eyes. 

His  senses  were  assailed  by  the  tone  and  timbre  of  her 
voice.  In  self-protection  he  somewhat  rudely  remarked: 

"The  fact  is  I  didn't  come  to  Europe  to  tell  you  how 
beautiful  you  are." 

"No,  you  came  over  on  business,"  she  said,  drily.  "You 
always  do  come  on  business.  We  all  assumed  that.  You 
needn't  fear  that  we're  any  of  us  flattering  ourselves  that 
you  came  specially  to  see  him  or  her.  You  were  sent  as  a 
delegate  to  some  labor  conference  or  other,  weren't  you?" 

"Not  as  a  delegate,  but  as  a  staff  correspondent  of  the 
Confederated  Press." 

She  learned  that  the  Confederated  Press  was  a  new 
venture  backed  by  several  radical  newspapers  and  designed 
to  supply  its  clients  with  the  news  of  the  world,  the 
straightforward  news,  before  it  was  cooked  or  adulterated 
by  the  old  established  press  services.  Robert's  assignment 
gave  him  an  enormously  valuable  experience,  although  his 
position  was  not  a  lucrative  one. 

"That's  what  brought  me  to  Geneva,"  he  concluded. 
"But  I  came  to  Paris  to  see  you." 

Just  before  he  left  New  York,  he  had  seen  Pryor,  he  told 
her.  Of  course  Pryor  had  let  out  one  or  two  startling  bits 
of  news  gathered  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  earth.  About 
Hutchins  Burley  and  Lydia  Dyson — things  he  would  tell 
her  later.  Pryor  had  all  the  town  talk  (Kips  Bay  talk)  at 
his  fingers'  ends.  The  man  was  a  regular  human  wireless 
station.  Did  Janet  recall  how  he  always  spoke  of  informa- 
tion drifting  his  way?  Well,  it  was  from  Pryor  that  he 


394  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

first  had  heard  that  Cornelia  and  the  famous  Madame 
Paulette  were  one  and  the  same  person. 

"You  see  I'd  lost  complete  track  of  Cornelia  after  she  left 
the  model  tenements,"  he  said.  "I'm  pretty  sure  that  she 
wanted  to  sponge  the  Kips  Bay  connection  clean  off  the 
slate.  Naturally,  my  turning  up  now  isn't  in  the  least  to 
her  liking.  I  can  feel  that,  in  spite  of  her  tremendous  sur- 
face cordiality.  But  I  had  to  come.  Finding  her  was  find- 
ing you." 

("A  pity  you  didn't  look  me  up  a  little  sooner,"  said 
Janet,  to  herself,  not  stopping  to  enlighten  him  as  to  the 
subtle  cause  of  Cornelia's  displeasure.) 

"Look,  here's  the  Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts,"  she  said  aloud. 
"We'll  be  in  the  Boulevard  St.  Germain  in  a  minute." 

Ill 

Whilst  he  obediently  turned  his  gaze  from  the  sparkle  of 
the  arc  lights  and  the  glitter  of  the  shops  and  streets,  his 
thoughts  were  preoccupied  by  her  puzzling  manner.  She 
was  friendly,  of  course.  Janet  was  always  that.  An 
equable,  agreeable  temper  was  the  very  essence  of  her.  But 
what  was  this  disconcerting  aloofness  of  hers  which  was 
cleaving  the  air  between  them!  Her  generous  eyes 
and  her  low  clear  voice  were  sending  out  vibrations  that 
penetrated  to  his  very  soul;  yet  her  mind  was  stubbornly 
withholding  the  confidence  which  in  the  old  Lorillard  days 
she  had  given  him  without  reserve.  What  did  the  paradox 
of  her  behavior  mean?  Was  this  a  new  Janet,  at  the 
opposite  pole  to  the  candid,  unaffected  Janet  of  Barr  and 
Lloyd?  He  supposed  that  the  Claude  episode  might  fur- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  395 

nish  the  answer.  Had  it  changed  her  spiritually  for  the 
worse  as  it  had  changed  her  physically  for  the  better? 

Well,  that  episode  had  certainly  changed  him,  though 
not  precisely  in  any  way  that  he  could  have  predicted. 
Changed  him!  For  one  thing  it  had  opened  his  eyes  to  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  a  good  deal  of  a  prig,  as  his  Outlaw 
acquaintances  were  so  fond  of  intimating.  He  blushed  to 
recall  his  ex  cathedra  pronouncements  on  the  subject  of 
free  love.  With  what  assurance  he  had  asserted  that  he 
did  not  object  to  free  love  as  a  matter  of  prejudice  but  only 
as  a  point  of  expediency.  Hypocrite!  The  very  reverse 
had  been  the  case.  When  Janet  ran  away  with  Claude,  the 
Old  Adam  had  risen  within  him  and  almost  smothered  him 
with  possessive  emotion. 

Like  any  common  jealous  man!  To  be  sure,  he  had 
stoutly  told  himself  that  the  Claude  adventure  made  no 
difference  in  his  estimate  of  Janet's  worth.  Absolutely 
none.  She  was,  as  always,  a  prize  for  any  man.  For  any 
man?  Well,  he  himself,  on  the  sole  ground  that  his  life's 
work  might  suffer,  would  not  consider  himself  eligible  for 
the  prize.  That  was  how  he  had  put  it.  That  was  where 
the  prig  had  shown  the  cloven  hoof. 

Still,  he  could  say  this  for  himself.  When  he  had  met 
Janet  face  to  face  again,  all  these  piffling  considerations  of 
expediency  had  instantly,  along  with  his  vulgar  prejudices, 
gone  by  the  board.  The  moment  he  set  eyes  on  her  in 
Paris,  he  felt  himself  at  one  with  her  as  he  had  never  felt 
at  one  with  any  other  human  being  (save  perhaps  a  certain 
long-lost  friend  of  his  own  sex). 

The  cause  was  not  far  to  seek.  Janet  could  pull  the 
trigger  that  released  and  expanded  his  faculties  as  no  one 


396  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

else  had  ever  been  able  to  do.  In  her  presence,  not  merely  his 
better  self,  but  his  more  adventurous  self,  his  more  aspir- 
ing self,  his  more  poetic  self,  and  his  more  heroic  self — 
the  several  Roberts  that  other  people  were  too  dull  to  per- 
ceive, or  too  futile,  ignorant,  or  base  to  cultivate — all  these 
craving  selves  came  into  their  own  and  grew  in  stature. 
What  was  a  previous  love  affair,  what  were  a  dozen  pre- 
vious love  affairs,  in  the  teeth  of  this  miracle?  Claude  Fon- 
taine! One  look  into  the  depth  of  Janet's  eyes,  and  all 
theories,  prejudices,  principles,  expediencies,  and  conflict- 
ing emotions  went  up  in  smoke. 

Meanwhile,  Janet's  thoughts  had  been  taking  a  very 
different  shape. 

She  did  not  know  that  Robert  had  never  seen  the  long 
letter  to  Cornelia  in  which  she  had  described  her  journey 
with  Claude  and  had  given  her  European  address.  Cornelia 
had  withheld  this  letter  from  Robert  for  reasons  scarcely 
admitted  to  herself;  and  what  Cornelia  did  not  admit  to 
herself  she  was  little  likely  to  admit  to  an  interested  friend. 
In  fact,  in  her  letter  to  Janet  and  in  casual  conversations 
since  their  recent  reunion,  Cornelia  had  so  often  allowed  it 
to  be  inferred  that  Robert  had  had  access  to  the  letter,  that 
she  ended  by  making  this  convenient  inference  herself. 

Not  unnaturally  then,  Janet  reasoned  that  Robert's  fail- 
ure to  communicate  with  her  had  been  deliberate.  What 
dovetailed  with  this  conclusion  was  the  memory  of  his  dic- 
tum on  free  love.  How  well  she  remembered  the  relentless 
words:  "I  can  never  have  anything  to  do  with  free  love  or 
with  a  woman  who  has  had  a  free  lover.  It  would  defeat  my 
purpose  in  life." 

His  purpose  in  life!     He  was  the  sort  of  man  who  took 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  397 

more  joy  in  finding  and  working  that  out  than  in  loving 
any  woman.  True,  she  no  longer  concurred  in  Cornelia's 
view  that  Robert  was  a  fanatic.  No.  He  just  escaped 
fanaticism  by  the  skin  of  his  teeth.  This  view  explained 
both  his  long  silence  and  his  sudden  reappearance.  That  is, 
she  knew  quite  well  that  he  had  borne  her  no  grudge  on 
account  of  the  past,  had  indulged  in  no  theatrical  repudia- 
tion of  her  friendship  because  of  her  liaison  with  Claude. 
He  had  simply  found  it  profitless  to  pursue  a  friendship 
with  a  woman  in  her  situation.  That  would  be  enough  to 
commit  him  to  silence. 

Nor  did  she  take  too  seriously  his  assertion  that  he  had 
made  a  special  trip  to  Paris  to  see  her.  Why  shouldn't  he 
pay  her  or  Madame  Paulette  a  visit  if  the  ordinary  course 
of  his  business  brought  him  almost  to  their  doorstep?  After 
all,  a  representative  of  labor  interests  could  hardly  come  to 
Europe  without  visiting  Paris.  Paris,  where  a  lurid,  under- 
ground drama  of  industrial  insurrection,  half  smothered  by 
gold  dust,  was  going  on! 

Was  there  any  sensible  reason  why  Robert  shouldn't 
pick  up  the  thread  of  an  old  friendship,  if  it  was  all  in  the 
day's  work?  It  might  even  be  useful  to  a  labor  man  to  get 
in  touch  with  people  who  knew  the  ropes  of  the  French 
capital.  Anyhow,  Robert  would  be  the  last  person  in  the 
world  to  abstain  from  such  a  course  if  it  promised  to  ad- 
vance his  principles. 

His  hateful  principles!  The  worst  of  it  was,  she  was 
beginning  to  have  sympathy  for  his  conviction  that  the 
drudgery  which  served  a  purpose  you  believed  in  might  be 
a  real  pleasure,  compared  with  which  the  pleasure  that 


398  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

served  no  purpose  worth  believing  in  would  be  an  intoler- 
able pain. 

Well,  all  these  speculations  were  as  nothing  against  the 
fact  of  the  moment.  The  fact  of  the  moment  was  that  the 
swaying  of  the  bus  crushed  Robert's  arm  against  hers  in  an 
impact  that  was  poignantly  delightful.  Nor  was  this  all. 
Robert,  his  imperious  principles  notwithstanding,  acted  in 
every  respect  as  if  he  liked  having  his  arm  against  her;  no, 
as  if  he  would  like  to  have  his  arm  around  her.  Robert 
Lloyd  amorous?  She  gave  him  a  sidelong  glance.  Her 
senses  provided  her  with  abundant  evidence  that  her  sur- 
mise was  correct.  But  this  was  a  world  of  sensory  illusions, 
as  she  had  learned  to  her  cost;  and  she  reminded  herself 
sharply  that  she  had  more  than  one  decisive  reason  for 
trusting  neither  to  his  feelings  nor  to  her  own. 

IV 

"You're  not  doing  your  duty,"  she  said  to  him.  "We've 
just  passed  the  church  of  St.  Germain-des-Pres.  Quick, 
look  back.  Even  darkness  can't  subdue  those  imposing 
walls.  Doesn't  it  look  solid  and  impregnable?  Just  like 
my  mother  and  like  your  convictions.  It's  a  structure  that 
commands  your  faith,  though  you  have  it  not.  You'll  miss 
the  silhouette  of  St.  Sulpice,  too,  if  you  don't  look  out." 

"Janet,  I  didn't  come  to  Paris  to  look  at  churches.  I 
came  to  look  at  you." 

"Well,  you  came,  you  saw,  and — you  conquered." 

"I  saw  more  than  you  think,"  he  went  on,  smiling  at  her 
flippancy.  "As  I  said  before,  you've  changed  physically. 
But  the  physical  change  is  of  no  importance." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  399 

"I  knew  it.    Those  fine  compliments  were  all  bunk." 

"Not  at  all.  You've  changed  physically  for  the  better. 
But  what  is  more  important  is  that  you've  changed  spiritu- 
ally—" 

"For  the  worse,  of  course     Now  we're  coming  to  it." 

"I  didn't  say  it.    I'm  not  at  all  sure." 

"This  may  be  candor,  Robert.  But  it  sounds  like  re- 
venge." 

"You  may  as  well  be  serious,  Janet.  I've  got  volumes 
to  pour  out  to  you,  and  pour  them  out  I  will.  When  I'm 
with  you,  I'm  like  the  Ancient  Mariner.  I  want  to  tell  you 
everything." 

"Everything?" 

"Well,  almost  everything,  as  they  say  in  the  comic  opera. 
What  do  you  suppose  was  the  most  wonderful  companion- 
ship I  ever  formed?" 

"I  can't  guess." 

"Barr  and  Lloyd.  Do  you  know  why?  Because,  for  one 
thing,  there  was  nothing  in  reason  that  I  couldn't  talk  to 
you  about,  with  the  most  unvarnished  frankness.  I  still 
feel  that  way." 

"I'm  glad  you  do.    We  were  very  good  pals,  weren't  we?" 

"Yes,  and  I  hope  we  still  are.  Anyhow,  I  want  to  speak 
of  something  I  heard  about  you  from  Mark  Pryor." 

"What  was  that?" 

"Pryor  seems  to  have  kept  in  touch  with  Cornelia  right 
along.  You  know  Pryor." 

"Not  a  sparrow  falleth  but  his  eye  doth  see,"  she  quoted. 

"Exactly.  He  has  been  keeping  tabs  on  this  rich  Alsatian. 
And,  by  the  way,  I  ought  to  mention  that  he  repeated  to  me 
what  you  told  him  about  Monsieur  St.  Hilaire." 


400  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"That's  a  nice  way  to  treat  my  confidence,"  said  Janet, 
seriously  annoyed.  "Pryor  of  all  people.  And  I  took  him 
to  be  the  only  original  human  clam!" 

"Well,  I  think  he  was  fully  justified—" 

"In  what  way,  I'd  like  to  ask?" 

"Please  don't  make  me  go  into  that  now,  Janet.  The 
thing  I'm  driving  at  is  this.  Pyror  heard  that  you  were  on 
the  point  of — of  forming  a  free  alliance  with  this  Alsatian 
gentleman.  Chiefly  to  escape  Cornelia  and  this  horrible 
business  of  clothes." 

"You've  been  misinformed,"  she  retorted  coldly.  "Not 
about  the  clothes.  I  do  loathe  them.  But  I've  no  intention 
of  forming  a  free  alliance  with  anybody.  Certainly  not  with 
Monsieur  St.  Hilaire.  Why  should  I?  I  don't  love  him. 
But  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  he  has  asked  me  to  marry 
him." 

"Oh,  then,  that's  what  you're  considering?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  concisely. 

And  "put  that  in  your  pipe  and  smoke  it,"  added  a  de- 
fiant glance  from  her  half-parted  long-lashed  eyes. 

If  he  had  any  notion  of  playing  the  medieval  knight, 
plunging  through  fire  and  water  for  the  damsel  in  distress, 
she  would  spoil  that  chivalrous  pose  in  a  jiffy. 

"Janet,  I  don't  understand  you,"  he  said,  with  quite  un- 
necessary vehemence.  "You  said  you  wouldn't  marry 
Claude,  your  reason  being  that  you  loved  him.  Now  you 
say  you  will  marry  Monsieur  St.  Hilaire,  and  your  reason 
is  that  you  don't  love  him." 

His  eyes  added:  "You  are  inexplicable,  exasperating, 
maddening — and  yet  adorable:  in  short,  you  are  Janet." 

The  bus  came  to  a  full  stop,  and  a  few  minutes  later  they 
were  in  the  concert  hall. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  401 

V 

The  concert  was  one  of  a  special  series  given  by  an 
orchestra  from  Rouen.  Janet's  attention  had  been  drawn  to 
the  series  by  two  circumstances.  One  was  that  a  third  of 
the  members  of  the  orchestra  were  women.  The  other  was 
that  the  inclusion  of  women  in  a  first-class  orchestra  had 
plunged  musical  circles  into  a  controversy  which  the  news- 
papers eagerly  seized  upon  and  played  up  with  caricature 
or  abuse,  satire  or  eulogy,  according  to  the  partisanship, 
but  never  the  merits  of  the  case. 

Robert  knew  nothing  of  this  controversy  until  he  ventured 
on  a  remark  during  the  first  intermission. 

"The  tone  and  workmanship  of  the  orchestra  are  splen- 
did," he  said.  "I  don't  feel  qualified  to  judge,  but  it  strikes 
me  that  the  women  are  doing  every  whit  as  well  as  the 
men." 

"As  well?  They're  doing  far  better.  Do  you  see  that 
first  violin  in  the  front  row,  the  third  from  the  left?  I  could 
tell  he  was  slacking  all  through  the  Cesar  Franck  number. 
And  there  were  four  or  five  others  as  bad.  You  couldn't 
say  that  of  one  of  the  women." 

"No.    Their  performance  is  amazing,  isn't  it?" 

"Why  amazing?"  asked  Janet,  still  detecting  an  echo  of 
masculine  superciliousness. 

"Well,  women  don't  generally  reach  the  top-notch  in 
the  fine  arts,  do  they?" 

"How  can  they,"  said  Janet  warmly,  "when  the  patroniz- 
ing disparagement  and  merciless  rivalry  of  men  hold  them 
back  at  every  turn!" 


402  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Well,  they've  managed  to  break  into  this  crack  orchestra. 
That  doesn't  look  like  merciless  rivalry." 

"Ah,  but  wait  till  I  tell  you  the  facts,  Robert.  As  the 
war  went  on,  managers  found  it  impossible  to  deny  women 
the  privilege  of  playing  in  high-class  bands.  But  the  men 
are  now  recovering  their  monopoly  as  fast  and  as  un- 
scrupulously as  possible.  How?  They  have  set  up  a  hue 
and  cry  against  the  women  and  have  won  the  musical 
pundits  to  their  side.  I  am  told  that  the  management  of 
this  Rouen  orchestra  is  almost  certain  to  yield  to  masculine 
pressure,  which  means  that  the  women  will  be  dislodged  at 
the  end  of  the  current  series." 

Did  Robert  appreciate  the  injustice  of  this  abominable 
proceeding?  It  was  a  fact  that  the  women  brought  a  fire, 
intensity  and  freshness  to  their  work  which  improved  the 
tone  and  effectiveness  of  every  band  they  played  in.  They 
were  twice  as  keen  as  the  men  and  worked  fifty  times 
harder.  Several  of  the  younger,  more  liberal  musical  critics 
both  in  Paris  and  in  London  fully  admitted  this.  Not  so 
the  old-timers  who  sat  in  the  seats  of  the  mighty.  And  yet 
the  men  who  were  doing  their  vicious  best  to  elbow  their 
rivals  out  of  the  way  were  the  very  men  who  fluttered  about 
town  and  with  crocodile  regret  assured  the  public  that,  no 
matter  what  equal  chances  the  weaker  sex  received,  the 
final  incapacity  of  women  to  reach  the  top  was  beyond  dis- 
pute. 

Janet's  shot  went  home.  But  the  resumption  of  the  pro- 
gram made  it  impossible  for  Robert  to  offer  a  defense.  He 
was  annoyed  at  himself  for  having  spoken  tactlessly  on  a 
topic  which  Janet  might  well  be  touchy  about.  Still,  he 
considered  that  her  rebuke  was  far  too  severe  to  fit  the 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  403 

crime,  especially  in  view  of  his  genuine  equalitarian  feeling 
toward  women,  a  feeling  that  Janet  ought  to  have  been  the 
last  to  deny  him. 

It  occurred  to  him  that,  if  she  was  capable  of  regarding 
him,  of  all  men,  with  so  much  detachment  (not  to  say  in- 
difference) as  to  make  him  the  target  for  a  sharp  anti- 
hominist  fire,  she  might  be  deeper  in  the  M.  St.  Hilaire  en- 
tanglement than  he  or  Mark  Pryor  had  suspected. 

By  the  time  the  concert  was  over,  Janet  was  sorry  for  the 
way  she  had  pitched  into  her  guest.  Would  he  forgive  her 
for  letting  the  heat  of  argument  carry  her  away?  Not  that 
she  retracted  a  word  she  had  said.  Far  from  it.  It  was 
impossible  to  say  too  much  on  that  score.  Had  he  noticed 
the  wide  publicity  which  the  Paris  newspapers  had  given  to 
an  assertion  appearing  in  one  of  Arnold  Bennett's  recent 
books?  It  was  the  assertion  that  women  are  inferior  to  men 
in  intellectual  power  and  that  "no  amount  of  education  or 
liberty  of  action  will  sensibly  alter  this  fact."  This  gesture 
of  finality  with  which  men,  even  men  of  genius  like  Bennett, 
invariably  polished  off  the  future  of  women  and  consigned 
them  to  an  eternity  of  subordination!  When  would  this 
superficial  generalization  ever  stop,  if  avowed  feminists  like 
Robert  fell  to  using  the  language  of  their  opponents  even 
while  avoiding  their  errors? 

"I'm  only  taking  the  words  out  of  your  mouth,  Robert," 
she  concluded,  in  her  softest  pacifying  tones.  "I'm  only 
repeating  what  you've  told  me  a  hundred  times  over  in  the 
past." 

He  smiled  at  this  sop  to  his  vanity,  which  none  the  less 
helped  to  restore  good  feeling. 


404  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

VI 

Janet  had  taken  him  towards  the  river.  They  walked 
arm  in  arm  along  the  Quai  Voltaire  and  the  Quai  d'Orsay, 
the  tranquil  Seine  and  the  starry  skies  almost  their  sole 
companions. 

The  dispute  of  the  evening  still  fresh  in  his  mind,  Robert 
alluded  to  Janet's  former  ambition  to  create  a  new  profes- 
sion for  women  of  the  middle  class.  A  branch  of  law,  wasn't 
it?  Authorship  law,  so  to  speak.  Had  she  given  it  any 
thought  of  late?  What  a  nuisance  it  was  that  money 
should  have  to  be  the  root  of  all  experiment  as  well  as  the 
root  of  all  evil.  In  the  absence  of  enough  capital,  it  was 
probably  just  as  well  that  she  deferred  another  attempt  to 
realize  her  dream.  Still,  it  was  a  pity.  She  had  made  such 
a  good  beginning  with  the  firm  of  Barr  &  Lloyd,  humble 
though  the  scale  of  its  operations  had  been. 

"Well,  Robert,  are  you  ready  to  renew  the  partnership?" 
she  challenged  him. 

"Is  this  a  strictly  business  proposal?"  he  replied,  in  a 
hesitating  manner. 

She  was  chilled  by  his  clumsiness. 

"Barr  &  Lloyd  was  always  a  'strictly  business'  affair, 
wasn't  it?"  she  said,  in  a  cool,  quiet  voice. 

He  wanted  to  burst  out  with:  "No,  I  never  believed  it 
was  wholly  that.  If  you'd  had  my  sort  of  partnership  in 
mind,  I'd  give  a  very  swift  and  a  very  different  answer." 
But  the  words  stuck  in  his  throat  For  two  reasons.  Her 
sudden  return  to  the  almost  hostile  manner  that  had  baffled 
him  earlier,  was  one.  His  knowledge  that  the  limited  and 
precarious  means  he  disposed  of  would  make  an  offer  of 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  405 

marriage  from  him  seem  ridiculous,  if  not  insane,  was  the 
second. 

Had  he  voiced  his  thoughts,  they  might  then  and  there 
have  thrashed  their  differences  out  in  half  an  hour.  But 
he  could  not  voice  them.  For  the  first  time  in  their  friend- 
ship, neither  of  them  was  candid  when  candor  was  the  sen- 
sible course.  "This  comes  of  caring  for  a  woman  not  wisely 
but  too  well,"  thought  Robert.  He  was  amazed  and  incredu- 
lous to  find  that  he  cared  so  much;  he  was  also  a  little  in- 
dignant with  himself,  for  he  had  vowed  never  to  do  that  very 
thing. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,"  he  heard  Janet  saying.  "I'm  not  go- 
ing to  impress  you  into  the  cause.  You  have  bigger  fish  to 
fry  than  the  feminist  movement.  As  for  me,  I've  had  a 
very  good  offer  from  Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome." 

She  sketched  a  picture  of  this  whimsical  lady,  and  gave 
a  short  account  of  Mrs.  Jerome's  interest  in  the  organized 
effort  to  rid  women  of  their  professional  disabilities.  Robert 
learned  that  Mrs.  Jerome  had  repeatedly  expressed  a  desire 
to  put  Janet  to  some  use  in  the  cause  she  had  at  heart. 

"The  work  would  be  quite  in  line  with  my  old  plans," 
added  Janet. 

"Then  why  don't  you  accept  her  offer  at  once?" 

"I  wish  I  knew,"  she  said,  evasively.  "Perhaps  I  can  do 
all  I've  wanted  to  do,  and  more,  if  I  follow  the  beaten  track, 
if  I  buy  cheap  and  sell  dear  in  the  marriage  market;  in 
short,  give  as  little  of  myself  as  I  can  to  the  richest  bidder 
that  offers.  What  do  you  think?" 

"I  think  a  cynical  step  of  that  sort  would  do  very  well 
for  Mazie,  whose  words  you  appear  to  be  repeating." 

"Oh,   don't   underrate   Mazie's   cynicism.     It  has  been 


406  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

hammered  into  a  durable,  serviceable  instrument  by  some 
very  hard  knocks.  Knocks  that  she  got  from  men.  Her 
flippant  manner  often  obscures  some  very  sound  remarks, 
like  the  one  that  there'll  be  no  equality  between  the  sexes 
until  women  exploit  men  as  shamelessly  as  men  exploit 
women." 

"Doesn't  the  modern  woman  do  this,  already?"  asked 
Robert,  with  a  smile. 

"How  often  does  she  get  the  same  chance?  It's  equality 
of  chances  that  I'm  aiming  for,  you  know." 

"So  am  I  for  that  matter,"  said  Robert.  "I  hope  we'll 
get  your  equality  of  chances  before  long.  Then  we  can 
work  together  for  decency." 

It  was  close  upon  midnight  when  they  took  a  taxi  back  to 
the  Boulevard  Haussman. 

Not  a  soul  was  stirring  in  the  Maison  Paulette.  Robert 
and  Janet  walked  through  the  corridor  on  the  rez-de- 
chausee  to  the  rear  building,  the  one  used  for  sleeping 
quarters.  For  a  few  minutes  they  stopped  in  the  vestibule 
at  the  foot  of  the  staircase. 

Now,  as  throughout  the  evening,  their  instincts  swayed 
them  one  way,  their  reason  another.  Each  misunderstood 
the  motives  of  the  other;  and,  what  with  this  misunder- 
standing and  the  economic  insecurity  of  their  circumstances, 
the  scales  were  tipped  in  favor  of  discretion.  Besides,  Janet 
mistrusted  her  impulses  far  more  than  formerly.  True, 
Robert  mistrusted  his  far  less.  In  spite  of  his  better  judg- 
ment, he  was  succumbing  to  her  ensnaring  voice  and  eyes, 
was  surrendering  to  an  intense  longing  to  tempt  her  into  a 
betrayal,  an  unambiguous  betrayal,  of  her  real  feelings. 

But  he  proceeded  in  a  manner  too  inadequate. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  407 

"I'm  no  clearer  about  your  plans  than  before,"  he  said, 
awkwardly.  "You  haven't  really  taken  me  into  your  con- 
fidence." 

"About  Monsieur  St.  Hilaire?" 

"Yes." 

A  marked  pause.  She  did  not  interrupt  it.  Discouraged, 
he  lamely  continued:  "Still,  I'm  glad  you've  changed  your 
point  of  view  about  men  and  women.  It's  something  to  find 
out  that  marriage,  like  adversity,  has  its  uses." 

"Robert,  what  I've  found  out  is  that  marriage,  like 
honesty,  may  be  the  best  policy.  I've  learned  that  woman 
cannot  live  by  principle  alone." 

"I  protest  I  never  urged  it." 

"No.  And  if  it's  the  least  satisfaction  to  you,  I'll  admit 
that  I  don't  intend  to  repeat  any  of  my  Kips  Bay  experi- 
ments— free  love,  outlawry,  and  so  on — you  know  the  sort 
of  thing.  Why  should  I?  There  are  few  moments  in  the 
old  Lorillard  tenement  life  that  I  regret;  yet  there  are  none 
that  I'd  live  over  again." 

"None?" 

"Not  one.  Wait.  There  is  a  single  moment  —  it  just 
occurs  to  me — it  was  so  like  this  one — " 

"Like  this  one?" 

"Yes,  'when  my  heart  was  a  free  and  a  fetterless  thing, 
a  wave  — '  " 

The  line  was  completed  without  words,  Robert,  swept 
away  by  her  enchantment,  having  seized  her  in  his  arms 
and  kissed  her. 

"Don't  marry  Monsieur  St.  Hilaire,"  he  said,  beseeching 
rather  than  commanding  her,  "whatever  you  do." 

She  disengaged  herself  almost  brutally,  and  went  up  the 


408  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

stairs.    Pausing  a  few  steps  up,  she  turned  and,  in  a  tone 
supremely  dispassionate,  said: 

"Whatever  I  do!     Well,  whatever  I  do,  I  can't  marry  a 
poor  man,  can  I?" 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-EIGHT 


Hoping  to  have  a  few  words  alone  with  Harry  Kelly, 
Robert  went  down  to  breakast  early.  But  if  he  expected  to 
learn  anything  further  in  regard  to  Janet  or  M.  St.  Hilaire, 
he  was  disappointed.  Extracting  teeth  would  have  been 
easier  than  pumping  Harry  who,  besides  being  more  taci- 
turn than  ever,  had  developed  a  vein  of  pessimism  quite  out 
of  keeping  with  his  material  prosperity. 

Robert  was  actually  relieved  when  the  appearance  of 
Mazie  Ross  at  the  breakfast  table  put  an  end  to  his  efforts 
to  draw  Kelly  out. 

"Her  Ladyship  was  sweetly  singing  'My  Rosary'  when  I 
passed  her  bedroom  door,"  said  Mazie,  alluding  to  Cor- 
nelia. "Things'll  be  humming  in  the  Maison  Paulette  this 
morning,  if  I  know  the  Indian  sign." 

Mazie  was  getting  to  be  very  chipper  of  late.  Whether 
from  the  force  of  association  or  not,  the  presence  of  Robert 
and  Janet  had  given  her  a  chance  to  recover  some  of  her 
old  position. 

Kelly  appeared  to  agree  with  Mazie's  inference,  though 
he  was  not  so  cheerful  about  it.  He  wished  Mark  Pryor 
were  somewhere  within  reach.  That  fellow  was  a  regular 
clairvoyant,  and  could  tip  you  off  about  the  most  astonish- 
ing things.  A  tip  would  be  handy  at  this  time. 

"Something's  going  to  happen,"  added  Harry,  gloomily. 
"I  feel  it  in  my  bones." 

"I'd  feel  it  in  my  bones,"  volunteered  Mazie,  "if  I  nearly 


410  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

killed  myself  like  you  do,  Harry.  You  fairly  chew  up  work. 
What's  the  use?  Let  the  Empress  do  some  of  the  worrying." 

"She's  got  enough  to  worry  about,  Mazie.  She  carries  the 
whole  responsibility  for  the  artistic  work  of  the  house,  and 
you  know  it." 

"You  bet  I  do!  The  chief  joy  of  my  declining  days  is  to 
watch  her  Ladyship  curl  up  on  a  cozy  sofa  in  the  office  and 
hug  the  responsibility  while  you  do  the  work.  When  the 
weight  is  too  much  for  her,  she  staggers  over  to  the  house 
switchboard,  rings  up  each  department  in  turn,  and  inter- 
feres with  everybody  impartially.  Say,  if  you  could  limber 
up  her  knee  action  a  bit — " 

At  this  point,  poor  Harry,  after  an  ineffectual  attempt 
to  stare  Mazie  into  silence,  got  up  and  went  out,  unable  to 
listen  any  longer. 

"The  goof!"  said  Mazie,  pitying  him  contemptuously. 
"She  only  married  him  as  a  sure  salvation  from  work." 

She  was  so  manifestly  unjust  to  Cornelia  (who,  however 
much  of  a  shirker  she  might  have  been  in  Kips  Bay,  was 
now  busy  enough  making  her  talent  for  line  and  color  pro- 
ductive) that  Robert  refrained  from  argument. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Harry?"  he  said,  attempting  to 
change  the  subject.  "He  was  always  monosyllabic,  but 
never  as  gloomy  as  this." 

"He  wants  a  son  and  heir." 

"Oh!" 

"Do  you  remember  how  Cornelia  used  to  tell  every  man 
who  paid  us  a  call  in  Number  Fifteen  that  the  dearest  wish 
of  her  life  was  to  hold  a  che-ild  to  her  maternal  heart? 
Every  brutal  Outlaw  that  came  along  would  offer  to  oblige 
on  the  spot.  Except  Harry.  He  melted  right  into  putty 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  411 

when  she  sprang  that  mother  gag;  and  then  she  gave  the 
cue  for  the  wild  wedding  bells  to  ring  out.  But  now  she's 
married,  it's  different.  The  muffler  is  on  the  maternal  urge. 
On  tight!  And  she's  strong  for  the  birth  control  propaganda. 
She's  so  strong  for  it  that — " 

Here  Cornelia  entered  and  Mazie  was  put  to  instant 
flight. 

II 

Cornelia's  hour  with  Robert  had  come.  She  lost  no  time 
in  giving  him  to  understand  that  his  arrival  in  Paris  had,  to 
put  it  mildly,  been  inopportune.  Not  that  it  was  his  fault. 
Naturally,  he  couldn't  very  well  have  foreseen  the  rapidly 
approaching  crisis  in  Janet's  life.  But  there  it  was!  M.  St. 
Hilaire,  a  man  of  parts  and  of  wealth,  was  anxious  to  marry 
Janet,  who  had  just  begun  to  see  that  the  match  was 
greatly  to  her  advantage.  Here  was  Janet's  golden  oppor- 
tunity to  redeem  the  past — 

"To  redeem  the  past  or  to  redeem  Monsieur  St.  Hilaire?" 

"Don't  be  flippant,  Cato.  You  know  very  well  what  I 
mean." 

"I'm  quite  serious.  Redeem  is  a  curious  word  to  use  in 
connection  with  Janet.  It  implies  atonement  for  sin.  Did 
you  apply  this  word  to  your  own  case  after  your  return 
from  England  to  the  model  tenements?" 

She  stared  at  him  icily.  Did  he  intimate  that  Janet's 
affair  with  Claude  Fontaine  was  spiritually  comparable  to 
her  affair  with  Percival  Houghton?  She  would  show  him 
the  difference.  True,  she  had  believed  in  free  love  ("a  hun- 
dred years  ahead  of  my  time,  Cato!")  and  Janet  had  fol- 
lowed suit.  But  when  she,  Cornelia,  had  taken  up  the 


412  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

gauntlet  against  the  irrational  knot,  she  had  let  herself  be 
pilloried  for  her  convictions.  Had  Janet  done  as  much? 
Let  his  own  fairness  be  his  tutor. 

Not  that  she  held  Janet  to  blame.  Oh,  no.  She  would 
have  Robert  know  that  he  and  his  principles  had  been  the 
disturbing  influence  in  Janet's  destiny.  This  had  been  the 
case  in  Kips  Bay.  She  feared  it  would  again  be  the  case 
in  Paris. 

"I  the  disturbing  influence?  Absurd,  Cornelia.  When  did 
I  ever  demand  that  you,  or  Janet,  or  anybody  else  live  up  to 
my  vaunted  principles?" 

"Cato,  there's  something  about  you,  some  Satanic  mag- 
netism, that  gives  you  a  strange  hold  upon  a  woman's  soul. 
It  makes  her  strive  to  appear  before  you  always  in  her 
loftier,  sublimer  flights,  to  put  on  her  Sabbath  character, 
so  to  speak." 

"Why  do  you  call  this  Sabbath  magnetism  Satanic?" 

"Because  it's  unnatural  to  ask  a  woman  to  assume  her 
Sabbath  character  seven  days  a  week.  She's  bound  to  come 
to  grief." 

She  assured  him  that  this  Satanic  faculty  of  his  was  what 
caused  him  to  pique  or  fascinate  women,  though  it  seldom 
inspired  them  with  passion.  And,  in  the  long  run,  it  always 
threw  them  out  of  gear.  As  in  the  case  of  Janet!  What  had 
his  intoxicating  mixture  of  visionary  theories  and  expedient 
compromises  done  for  her  hi  the  Claude  Fontaine  affair? 
It  had  brought  her  out  at  the  pitifully  small  end  of  the  horn. 

"I  may  remind  you,  Robert,  that  7  was  ready  to  ruin 
myself  for  Percival  Houghton,  ready  to  stand,  upright  and 
reckless,  facing  the  world  with  him.  /  didn't  go  slinking 
from  one  hotel  to  another,  as  his  pretended  wife." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  413 

Cornelia's  heroics  would  have  amused  Robert  but  for  the 
jibe  flung  at  Janet.  Thank  heaven,  Janet  never  declaimed 
about  having  faced  a  whole  world  or  having  ruined  herself 
for  anyone.  After  listening  to  such  windy  phrases,  who 
would  not  be  biased  towards  any  course  that  seemed  right 
to  Janet  and  wrong  to  Cornelia? 

He  hung  on  her  lips  with  rapt  absorption,  hoping  by  this 
look  of  intenseness  to  mask  his  thoughts. 

In  this  hope  he  was  deceived, 

"Why  on  earth  don't  you  marry  Charlotte  Beecher?" 
she  cross-questioned  him  abruptly. 

"I  don't  know." 

"You  don't  know!  Do  you  suppose  a  girl  with  position, 
wealth  and  brains  turns  up  every  day  in  the  week?  A  girl 
who  really  wants  you!  I'm  sure  I  can't  imagine  why  she 
does." 

"Nor  can  I." 

She  repeated  her  question.  Had  he  given  Charlotte 
Beecher  up  merely  because  she  loved  him  so  much  more 
than  he  loved  her? 

He  couldn't  very  well  answer  this  question  in  the  affirma- 
tive. So  he  said: 

"Charlotte  is  a  very  intellectual  girl,  the  most  intellectual 
girl  I  know.  She  never  met  a  man  whom  she  regarded  as 
her  equal  in  point  of  brains  until  she  met  me.  The  regard 
was  mutual.  She  mistook  her  admiration  for  love.  I  might 
have  made  the  same  mistake— if  I  hadn't  met  you." 

"You  can't  blarney  me,  Cato,"  she  said,  highly  flattered 
none  the  less.  "It's  too  late  in  the  day!" 

"I  mean  it,  Cornelia.  Meeting  you,  made  me  alive  to  the 
full  force  of  the  attraction  between  the  sexes." 


414  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"It  is  the  one  thing  needful,"  said  Cornelia,  in  low  siren 
tones.  "For  without  it,  love  is  as  the  dry  stubble." 

"I,  too,  used  to  think  so,"  replied  Robert,  turning  a  cold 
douche  on  this  sentiment.  "We've  all  had  that  notion 
rammed  down  our  throats  since  childhood.  But  can  we  be 
certain  that  sexual  attraction  is  the  only  road  to  love?  The 
poets  assure  us  that  pity  is  a  famous  short-cut.  In  the  case 
of  very  young  people,  all  roads  seem  to  lead  to  love.  For 
older  folk,  mutual  admiration  may  be  as  good  a  road  as 
any.  Speaking  for  myself,  I'm  still  considering  a  proposal 
to  Charlotte  Beecher — " 

"Oh,  you're  still  considering  her?  And  Janet  is  still 
considering  M.  St.  Hilaire.  For  ice-cold  calculation,  give 
me  a  one-hundred  per  cent  enthusiast  like  you  or  Janet." 

"Are  you  suggesting  that  Janet  is  so  well-suited  to  me 
that  I  ought  to  propose  to  her?" 

She  rose,  with  a  growing  sense  of  contempt  for  him.  If 
he  did  anything  so  insane — and  he  was  doubtless  capable  of 
it — the  results  would  be  on  his  own  head.  He  had  already 
made  a  mess  of  his  newspaper  career,  he  had  been  too  proud 
to  cultivate  the  Fontaine  influence,  he  had  gratuitously 
antagonized  his  only  well-to-do  relation  in  California,  even 
now  he  could  barely  make  a  hand-to-mouth  living  out  of  his 
connection  with  the  radical  press.  And  he  actually  proposed 
to  lengthen  this  catalog  of  disasters!  Well,  he'd  better  re- 
member one  thing.  His  friends  could  pull  him  out  of  a 
hole,  but  not  out  of  a  bottomless  abyss. 

Really,  did  he  believe  in  miracles?  To  put  it  bluntly: 
did  he  suppose  that  two  failures  added  together  made  a 
success?  Yes,  two  failures!  He  was  an  impecunious 
journalist  or  a  discredited  labor  propagandist — which  was 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  415 

it?  And  Janet!  What  had  she  to  offer?  A  pirated  soul 
(this  to  remind  him  of  Claude  Fontaine)  and  shattered 
prospects. 

"Really,  Cornelia,  these  phrases  belong  to  the  screen 
grade  of  fiction,  not  to  the  facts  of  the  twentieth  century." 

Here  Mazie  interrupted  with  an  urgent  message  from  the 
exhibition  room. 

"Stay  and  talk  to  Robert,"  said  Cornelia  with  frigid 
disdain.  "He's  a  great  salvager  of  damaged  reputations." 

Mazie  looked  inquiringly  Robert's  way,  while  Cornelia 
swept  towards  the  door.  In  a  mock-heroic  tone,  he  ex- 
plained: 

"Cornelia  says  that  Janet  went  wrong;  therefore,  unless 
M.  St.  Hilaire  marries  her,  she'll  be  ruined  jor  life." 

Mazie  caught  the  drift  of  the  situation  at  once. 

"Ruined!"  she  cried  out,  in  a  steaming  torrent  of  slang. 
"Say,  people  in  the  States  won't  believe  a  girl  is  'ruined' 
nowadays,  even  when  she's  committed  to  the  House  of  the 
Good  Shepherd.  Ruined!  Who's  to  ruin  her?  Why,  the 
average  American  is  such  a  hokey-pokey,  near-beer,  Sunday- 
school  man  of  straw,  he  wouldn't  ruin  Cleopatra  if  she 
begged  him  on  her  bended  knees!  Take  it  from  me.  If 
Janet's  people  at  the  cemetery  end  of  Brooklyn  heard  Claude 
described  as  the  Due  de  la  Fontaine,  they  might  give  her  the 
glassy  eye.  They  might.  They'll  believe  cruel  things  about 
a  foreigner.  But  she  mustn't  let  on  that  he's  a  gent  from  the 
U.  S.  A.,  or  they'll  think  she's  stringing  them.  Think! 
They'll  know  it.  Why,  my  brown-eyed  cherub,  there's  only 
one  way  a  girl  can  go  wrong  in  little  old  New  York.  And 
that's  to  have  somebody  break  into  her  bank  account." 


416  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Of  the  latter  part  of  this  choicely  sustained  opinion, 
Robert  was  the  exclusive  audience,  Cornelia  having  already 
closed  the  door  with  a  bang. 

Ill 

A  little  later  in  the  morning  Janet,  glancing  through  a 
copy  of  Le  Matin  three  days  old,  caught  sight  of  a  familiar 
name  in  a  telegraphic  despatch  from  New  York.  The  name 
was  Fontaine.  According  to  the  brief  news  report,  headed 
C'est  fini  de  rirel  (the  fun  is  over! ),  Fontaine  and  Company, 
the  most  noted  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  dealers  in  precious 
stones,  were  charged  with  complicity  in  a  sensational 
attempt  at  smuggling. 

Piecing  the  somewhat  disjointed  details  together,  Janet 
gathered  that  secret  agents  of  the  Department  of  Justice 
on  the  lookout  for  spies  had  inadvertently  found  thousands 
of  dollars'  worth  of  diamonds  concealed  in  the  bottom 
boards  of  what  purported  to  be  cases  of  Japanese  books. 
The  cases,  which  had  been  opened  by  the  Secret  Service 
agents  shortly  after  the  "Ionic"  docked  in  Hoboken,  were 
ostensibly  consigned  to  a  San  Francisco  book  dealer  for 
whom  one  Hutchins  Burley,  a  New  York  editor  and  foreign 
correspondent,  appeared  as  the  representative. 

Burley  was  held,  and  the  newspapers  featured  him  as 
the  "master  mind"  of  a  very  clever  band.  On  examination 
he  confessed  that  the  book  dealer  was  a  mere  dummy  for 
Fontaine  and  Company,  whose  stock  rooms  were  the  real 
destination  of  the  diamonds.  A  warrant  for  the  arrest  of 
Mr.  Rene  Fontaine,  head  of  the  firm,  was  at  once  issued. 
Officials  of  the  customs  house  alleged  that  the  operations 
of  the  smugglers,  whose  ingenuity  had  baffled  detection  for 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  417 

years,  reached  gigantic  proportions,  the  government's  loss 
being  estimated  at  many  millions. 

News  so  startling  had  to  be  told  without  delay.  Janet 
excitedly  reported  it  to  Harry  Kelly  and  then  descended  to 
the  exhibition  room  where  as  a  rule  Cornelia  held  sway  at 
this  hour. 

Entering  the  salon  somewhat  precipitately,  she  saw  the 
young  Duchess  of  Keswick  seated  in  great  state  and  sur- 
rounded by  deferential  minions.  But  no  Cornelia  visible. 
Janet  beat  a  swift  retreat.  .The  Duchess  reminded  her,  not 
altogether  pleasantly,  of  Marjorie  Armstrong  at  the  Mineola 
Aerodome.  The  two  young  ladies  had  the  same  fashionable 
contours,  the  same  self-conscious  pride  of  position,  the  same 
patricianism  of  the  made-to-order  rather  than  of  the  inborn 
type. 

Hastening  up  a  flight  of  stairs  to  Cornelia's  office,  Janet 
was  brought  to  a  stop  outside  the  door  by  the  sound  of 
voices,  which  she  recognized  at  once  as  those  of  her  friend 
and  of  the  Duchess's  mother,  Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome. 

It  was  easy  to  overhear  the  conversation.  Mrs.  Jerome 
announced  her  departure  for  London  the  next  day  to  inspect 
an  apartment  house  restricted  exclusively  to  professional 
women  who,  besides  being  mothers,  were  the  sole  supporters 
of  their  children.  She  intended  to  open  a  similar  house 
(as  a  humanitarian,  not  a  charitable  undertaking)  in  New 
York.  She  had  already  offered  Janet  the  post  of  resident 
business  manager.  Naturally,  she  would  like  to  take  the 
young  lady  with  her  to  England  at  once,  but  she  wouldn't 
insist  on  this.  If  the  inconvenience  to  the  Maison  Paulette 
was  too  great,  Janet  could  follow  later,  as  soon  as  she  had 
wound  up  her  affairs. 


418  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Cornelia's  reply  was  couched  in  a  low  voice  so  tense  with 
emotion  that  Janet  could  distinguish  only  a  word  or  two 
here  and  there.  These  words  were  ample.  M.  St.  Hilaire, 
woman-with-her-back-to-the-wall,  Henriette,  redemption, 
iron-law-of-retribution,  etc.,  such  proper  names  and  stagey 
phrases  showed  quite  clearly  that  Cornelia  was  delivering 
her  customary  rigmarole  about  the  sacrifices  she  was  mak- 
ing to  the  end  that  Janet  might  cover  up  her  past  and 
glorify  her  future. 

To  Janet's  ears,  this  rigmarole  was  now  so  stale  as  no 
longer  to  invite  even  remonstrance.  But  to  declaim  it  to  a 
comparative  outsider!  And  to  embroider  it  with  all  sorts 
of  sticky  innuendoes!  Janet  grew  hot  and  cold  by  turns. 
So  this  was  how  one's  name  was  buffeted  about  after  an 
episode  like  hers  with  Claude  Fontaine!  If  one's  best 
friends  talked  this  way  behind  one's  back,  what  might  not 
less  intimate  associates  say  or  take  for  granted? 

She  had  tried  to  steel  herself  against  inevitable  collisions 
with  public  opinion;  yet  this  first  impact,  though  only  an 
oblique  one,  had  given  her  a  much  nastier  shock  than  any 
she  had  anticipated. 

M.  St.  Hilaire,  the  Chateau  in  Normandy,  the  prestige 
that  was  to  cover  a  multitude  of  past  sins — Cornelia  was 
going  it  again! 

Mrs.  Jerome  replied  that  these  matters  were  none  of  her 
affair.  She  needed  Janet  and  she  believed  Janet  needed  her. 
Surely,  the  decision  lay  with  the  young  woman  herself? 

While  Janet  was  still  debating  whether  or  not  she  should 
walk  straight  in  and  interrupt,  Cornelia  shifted  the  attack, 
her  diplomatic  allusions  to  Janet's  love  affair  being  replaced 
by  blunter  speech.  She  effected  the  change  with  a  great 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  419 

show  of  diffidence  and  hesitation.  Her  sense  of  loyalty  alike 
to  her  friend  and  to  Mrs.  Jerome  obliged  her,  etc. —  Claude 
Fontaine,  the  beau  ideal  of  the  Junior  smart  set,  etc. — 
the  transatlantic  honeymoon  to  which  the  newspaper  trou- 
badours had  given  a  far-flung  notoriety,  etc. —  But  doubt- 
less Mrs.  Jerome  recalled  these  particulars  well  enough? 

Came  the  tart  rejoinder: 

"No,  I  never  do  read  newspaper  scandal!  The  fact  is, 
when  I'm  not  gambling  in  Paulette  frocks,  I'm  a  very  busy 
woman.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  Duchess,  the  Magpie  Club  in 
Mayfair  would  make  short  work  of  me.  But  the  Duchess 
reads  me  some  of  the  necessary  tittle-tattle  at  breakfast  so 
as  to  keep  me  au  fait.  She's  a  great  newspaper  fan,  is  the 
Duchess." 

When  Janet  finally  opened  the  door,  walked  in,  and  elec- 
trified the  room,  Cornelia  had  just  been  sweetly  remarking: 

"But  about  the  managership  of  this  house,  a  house  for 
unattached  mothers — widows  and  feminist  women  I  pre- 
sume?— about  such  projects  public  curiosity  is  simply 
insatiable,  isn't  it?  Do  you  really  think  that  Janet  is  exactly 
the  person  for  such  a  delicate  position — ?" 

Ignoring  Cornelia  and  her  innuendo,  Janet  spoke  directly 
to  Mrs.  Jerome. 

"I'm  sorry  you  didn't  let  me  tell  you  everything  last  week, 
Mrs.  Jerome,"  she  said,  keeping  herself  well  in  hand.  "You 
see,  all  this  would  have  been  superfluous  then." 

"My  policy,  child,  is  never  to  learn  more  than  it's  good 
for  me  to  know.  But  perhaps  I  was  in  the  wrong  this  time." 

"I  had  no  idea  you  could  overhear  us,  Janet,"  said  Cor- 
nelia, with  as  much  acerbity  as  if  she  were  the  injured 
party. 


420  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Janet  scorned  to  reply  on  the  level  of  this  remark. 

"I  came  to  show  you  a  piece  of  news  in  the  Matin"  was 
all  she  deigned  to  say. 

Pointing  out  the  place,  she  handed  Cornelia  the  news- 
paper. 

"I'd  like  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Jerome  alone  for  a  few 
minutes,"  she  said.  "Would  you  very  much  mind?" 

"Oh,  by  no  means,"  replied  Cornelia,  trying  hard  to  be 
superior  and  authoritative.  "Make  any  arrangements  you 
like  to  suit  your  own  interests.  Never  mind  the  Maison 
Paulette.  Don't  think  that  7  shall  stand  in  your  light." 

And  as  she  went  out,  unabashed,  she  offered  the  flowery 
remark  that  she  had  only  done  her  poor  best  to  follow  the 
impulses  of  her  heart,  her  sole  desire  having  been  to  help 
both  Janet  and  Mrs.  Jerome  to  a  mutual  understanding,  in 
the  absence  of  which  any  joint  project  they  might  embark 
on  would  be  only  too  likely  to  suffer  shipwreck. 

IV 

Mrs.  Jerome  drew  Janet  down  to  a  place  beside  her  on 
the  leather  settee. 

"Now,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "I'd  just  as  soon  you  didn't 
dig  up  ancient  history.  Unless  it's  going  to  relieve  your 
mind.  But  I  shan't  be  any  the  wiser  for  it  when  you've 
finished,  trust  me.  Why,  if  you  told  me  that  you  were  a 
new  version  of  the  Old  Nick  himself,  one  look  into  your 
lovely  gray  eyes  would  convince  me  that  it  wasn't  true." 

None  the  less,  Janet,  not  wishing  to  sail  under  false 
colors,  gave  a  very  short  resume  of  her  life  from  the  time 
she  went  to  the  Lorillard  tenements  in  Kips  Bay  to  the  day 
she  left  M.  St.  Hilaire. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  421 

Throughout  this  narrative,  Mrs.  Jerome's  round  little 
face  was  sphinx-like,  becoming  animated  only  at  the  point 
of  Janet's  separation  from  Claude. 

"He  left  you  in  the  lurch,  then?"  she  had  interposed, 
much  affected. 

'"Oh,  no,  he  would  have  kept  on  providing  for  me,"  said 
Janet,  evasively,  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation. 

Nobody  had  really  believed  the  story  that  she  had  left 
Claude.  Even  Robert  appeared  to  take  the  reverse  for 
granted.  Perhaps,  on  the  whole,  she  had  better  fall  into  a 
view  that  people  would  be  sure  to  adopt  in  any  case,  and 
that  she  was  almost  beginning  to  adopt  herself. 

"But  of  course  you  didn't  let  him,"  said  Mrs.  Jerome. 

"No." 

"Good.  We  mustn't  be  under  any  obligation  of  that  sort 
to  the  selfish  sex.  Now  don't  worry  about  the  matter  any 
more.  You're  a  plucky  girl,  my  dear.  Keep  your  pluck, 
and  your  pluck  will  keep  you." 

Mrs.  Jerome  added  that  she  hoped  Claude  Fontaine  had 
not  behaved  any  worse  than  Janet  had  represented.  She 
knew  the  young  man.  Who  in  New  York  didn't?  As  re- 
gards possible  criticism,  Janet  should  be  comforted  with  the 
reflection  that  glass  houses  made  the  whole  world  kin, 
human  architecture  being  nowhere  complete  without  them. 
Why,  most  of  the  girls  in  the  Younger  Set  had  lost  their 
heads  over  Claude,  which  was  all  they  had  had  a  chance  to 
lose.  She  herself,  meeting  him  once  at  a  costume  ball  of 
the  Junior  League,  had  been  knocked  silly  by  his  dashing 
airs  and  Apollo  curls,  not  to  mention  the  best  pair  of  calves 
she  had  ever  beheld. 

"So  you  see,  my  dear,  an  old  woman  can  be  quite  as 


422  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

feeble-minded  as  a  debutante.  Nobody  has  ever  had  a 
monopoly  of  making  mistakes." 

Janet  pointed  out  that  the  world  did  not  take  quite  so 
liberal  a  view.  This  being  so,  might  she  not  prove  a  source 
of  embarrassment  to  Mrs.  Jerome?  As  people  looked  at  it, 
running  away  with  a  man  was — 

"Child,  for  every  woman  who  runs  away  with  a  man, 
there's  a  man  who  runs  away  with  a  woman." 

This  obvious  truth  had  been  lost  sight  of,  and  the  time 
had  come  for  its  emphatic  reassertion.  Did  Janet  imagine 
that  Claude  had  lost  any  credit?  Well,  let  her  look  at  the 
facts.  Mr.  Fontaine,  senior,  had  just  got  himself  into  a 
very  bad  mess,  one  that  involved  the  Fontaine  firm  in  a  case 
of  diamond  smuggling.  The  Duchess  had  read  her  the  story 
from  the  papers.  And  only  last  night  Le  Temps  had 
reported  that  Mr.  Fontaine  was  believed  to  have  jumped  his 
bail,  leaving  his  son  Claude  behind  to  pull  the  firm  out  of 
the  hole.  And  everybody  felt  so  sorry  for  Claude!  Not  that 
he  had  anything  to  fear.  He  could  not  be  held  personally 
accountable.  Still,  there  were  the  court  proceedings, 
which  were  reckoned  a  terrible  load  for  his  handsome  young 
shoulders  to  bear.  And  so  bankers  and  clubmen  and  "seal- 
skin" artists  were  rushing  to  his  aid;  matrons  from  upper 
Fifth  Avenue  were  pulling  wires;  Colonel  Armstrong,  the 
great  financier,  was  on  the  job  behind  the  scenes;  and  it 
was  freely  whispered  that  when  the  storm  had  blown  over, 
Claude  and  Marjorie  Armstrong  were  to  be  married  in  St. 
Thomas'.  Here  was  retribution!  If  you  judged  from  the 
international  tidal  wave  of  sympathy  and  helpfulness  that 
was  sweeping  towards  Claude,  you  might  be  pardoned  for 
thinking  that  he  was  Galahad,  Parsifal,  and  Lohengrin  rolled 
into  one. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  423 

"But  men  stand  by  one  another,"  added  Mrs.  Jerome, 
pointing  the  moral  succinctly. 

Women  would  have  to  take  this  lesson  to  heart  and  stand 
by  one  another  just  as  men  did.  If  Janet  joined  the  Jerome 
forces,  she  could  depend  on  one  thing,  and  that  was  her 
support  through  thick  and  thin. 

Janet  felt  inexcusably  ungrateful  at  not  accepting  the 
managership  on  the  spot,  and  frankly  said  so.  She  made 
no  attempt  to  explain  her  indecision,  her  motives  at  the 
time  being  far  from  clear  to  herself. 

Mrs.  Jerome,  blissfully  unaware  of  the  existence  of 
Robert  Lloyd  as  a  factor  in  this  hesitation,  took  it  in  very 
good  part.  Janet  should  make  up  her  mind  when  she 
pleased.  But  surely,  she  wasn't  again  playing  with  the 
thought  of  marrying  M.  St.  Hilaire?  After  her  emphatic 
assertion  that  she  didn't  love  him! 

"Yet  I  don't  dislike  him,  by  any  means,"  said  Janet.  "I 
was  very  fond  of  him  in  Brussels,  before  he  lost  his  head." 

"Fond!  Child,  one  may  marry  for  money  without  affec- 
tion, or  for  affection  without  money,  but  one  shouldn't 
marry  for  either  money  or  affection  without  a  little  romance 
thrown  in." 

Saying  which,  this  whimsical  little  lady  laughed,  rose,  and 
put  an  arm  lovingly  around  her  favorite. 

"Come  back  to  the  States  with  me,  Janet,"  she  continued. 
"You'll  see  what  we  women  can  do  when  we  put  on  steam. 
You  shall  make  an  independent  place  for  yourself  in  New 
York,  besides  helping  other  women  to  do  the  same.  And 
by  and  by  some  suitable  countryman  of  ours  will  come 
along,  and  we'll  have  you  nicely  married  off." 


424  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

V 

We'll  have  you  nicely  married  off.  Left  alone,  Janet  had 
to  pull  herself  together  after  the  shock  of  these  words. 
Everybody  seemed  determined  to  get  her  married.  Claude, 
Pryor,  Cornelia,  Robert.  And  now  Mrs.  Jerome,  too! 

Clearly,  even  people  who  were  extremely  well  disposed 
towards  her,  had  it  at  the  back  of  their  minds  that  she  had 
lost  credit  with  her  fellow-men.  And  that  nothing  short  of 
marriage  could  restore  her  to  full  public  esteem!  This  was 
a  situation  she  would  have  to  reckon  with.  But  how  comical 
it  was  to  have  marriage  urged  upon  her  as  though  it  were 
a  kind  of  penance  she  must  do  in  order  to  regain  her 
standing! 

Penance!  She  was  driven  to  admit  that  it  really  would 
be  something  like  an  act  of  penance  to  marry  M.  St.  Hilaire. 
Still,  would  she  feel  this  way  if  she  hadn't  met  Robert  again? 
Would  she?  Scarcely.  It  was  Robert's  turning  up  that  had 
caused  M.  St.  Hilaire  to  appear  in  the  light  of  a  penitential 
infliction. 

There  were  two  courses  open  to  her,  and  staying  with 
Cornelia  was  not  one  of  them.  No,  she  recoiled  from  fash- 
ionable dressmaking  and  all  its  shows,  and  the  atmosphere 
of  the  Maison  Paulette  with  its  lurking  vapors  of  parasitism 
and  prostitution  grew  more  oppressively  sickening  every 
day. 

True,  the  big  establishment  was  an  amusing  novelty  at 
first,  when  you  saw  only  the  surface  glamor.  Nor  was  it  half 
bad  to  help  Harry  Kelly  to  train  the  manikins,  so  long  as 
you  supposed  that  this  training  merely  equipped  them  to 
wear  expensive  frocks  in  the  salon  or  at  the  races  or  at  the 
opera.  But  when  you  found  out  that  every  one  of  these 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  425 

dainty  girl  models  expected  confidently  to  become  the  mis- 
tress of  some  rich  merchant  or  politician,  your  zest  for  the 
work  oozed  away. 

Not  that  you  saw  much  difference  between  the  kept  mis- 
tresses who  exhibited  the  Paillette  garments  and  the  kept 
wives  who  purchased  them.  But  you  began  to  look  upon 
the  whole  traffic  in  dresses  as  a  symbol  of  woman's  enslave- 
ment to  man  and  of  man's  enslavement  to  the  dollar  sign. 
And  you  observed  how  this  traffic  changed  everybody  con- 
nected with  it  for  the  worse.  (Everybody  except  poor 
Mazie,  who  had  experienced  a  revulsion  of  feeling  against 
the  ghost  of  her  Ziegfeld  "Follies"  self — unluckily  too  late 
to  do  her  any  good.)  You  watched  the  crude  boyish  cyni- 
cism of  Harry  Kelly  turn  into  a  morose  pessimism,  and  in 
Cornelia  you  felt  the  growth  or  stiffening  of  all  that  was 
grasping  and  cruel. 

As  Janet  saw  these  metamorphoses,  she  realized  that  the 
house  of  Paulette  was  a  house  of  bondage.  It  was  not  an 
institution  with  which  a  free-spirited  woman  would  wish 
permanently  to  throw  in  her  lot. 

For  practical  purposes,  then,  her  choice  lay  between  the 
managership  under  Mrs.  Jerome  and  a  "marriage  of  con- 
venience" with  M.  St.  Hilaire. 

Instinct,  to  be  sure,  pointed  to  another  alternative  in 
which  the  name  of  Robert  figured  in  capital  letters.  But 
this  was  a  romantic  dream,  a  dream  which  her  fancy  might 
embroider  but  which  her  courage  and  common  sense  had  to 
dispel.  Thus,  when  instinct  urged,  "A  little  feminine  be- 
guilement  will  bring  him  swiftly  to  your  feet,"  common 
sense  rejoined,  "You  may  elect  life-long  poverty  for  your- 
self; dare  you  inflict  it  on  Robert?"  Instinct  could  rear 


426  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

and  curvet,  it  could  champ  the  bit;  but  it  was  not  in  the 
saddle. 

As  between  the  two  available  courses,  she  had  vastly 
preferred  the  managership.  She  would  have  jumped  at  it 
when  Mrs.  Jerome  first  offered  it,  but  for  a  tacit  under- 
standing with  Henriette.  What  a  pull  on  her  affections  the 
little  girl  exercised!  In  a  moment  of  weakness,  or  rather 
of  passionate  disgust  with  Paulette's,  Janet  had  given  her 
former  pupil  all  but  an  outright  promise  to  become  her 
second  mother.  Yet,  though  the  father's  proposal  was  a 
handsome  one,  full  of  concessions  to  Janet's  conception  of  a 
modern  woman's  sphere,  it  was  difficult  to  ignore  the  likeli- 
hood of  a  bitter  conflict  after  the  wedding.  A  conflict  on 
the  issue  of  these  very  concessions.  For  between  the  feudal 
traditions  of  a  man  like  M.  St.  Hilaire  and  the  equalitarian 
assumptions  of  a  woman  like  herself,  there  was  a  great  gulf 
fixed.  Could  it  ever  be  bridged? 

Anyhow,  Mrs.  Jerome's  offer  had  blazed  out  the  real 
path  of  independence  for  her,  and  no  mistake.  Or  so  she 
had  thought.  A  dozen  times  of  late  she  had  been  on  the 
point  of  imparting  her  final  decision  to  Henriette  and  facing 
Cornelia  and  M.  St.  Hilaire  with  it.  Lack  of  courage  had 
not  restrained  her.  A  very  different  consideration  had 
given  her  pause.  Might  not  her  "past"  prove  a  source  of 
serious  embarrassment  to  Mrs.  Jerome's  work?  The  last 
two  years  had  taught  her  something  of  the  "chemical" 
methods  of  warfare,  the  "poison  gas"  attacks  which  the  foes 
of  progress  did  not  scruple  to  adopt.  Was  it  likely  that  the 
enemies  of  the  women's  movement  would  lose  the  chance 
of  wrecking  Mrs.  Jerome's  scheme  by  raising  against  her 
young  manager  the  hue  and  cry  of  immorality,  that  cry 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  427 

with  which  a  handful  of  knaves  had  so  often  brought  a 
whole  nation  of  fools  and  cowards  to  heel? 

None  the  less,  good  sense  had  suggested  that  if  Mrs. 
Jerome  could  risk  it,  so  could  she.  And  she  had  at  last 
nerved  herself  to  a  conclusive  interview  with  M.  St.  Hilaire. 
It  was  no  more  than  fair  that  after  so  much  shilly-shallying, 
she  should  explain  at  first  hand  her  definitive  refusal. 

She  was  awaiting  him  now.  Had  everything  gone 
smoothly,  she  could  have  shown  him  that  her  career  was 
already  booked  for  passage  by  a  different  route.  Booked! 
But  at  this  critical  moment  she  had  struck  a  snag  in  the 
shape  of  Mrs.  Jerome's  intimation  that  the  shortest  way 
with  an  awkward  past  was  to  "marry  it  down,"  so  to  speak. 
Had  she  been  mistaken  in  Mrs.  Jerome?  Was  the  good 
lady  so  bravely  taking  a  risk  only  with  the  quiet  resolve 
to  insure  this  risk  at  the  earliest  opportunity?  Well,  if  she 
had  to  get  married  for  her  sins,  one  thing  was  certain.  The 
St.  Hilaire  she  did  know  was  better  than  the  St.  Hilaire  she 
didn't. 

These  reflections  were  brought  to  an  abrupt  close  by  the 
return  of  Cornelia. 

"Monsieur  St.  Hilaire  is  below,"  she  announced,  stormily. 
"It  seems  to  me  that  you  owe  an  explanation  to  me  as  well 
as  to  him." 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  returned  Janet  in  a  voice  that  was 
strangely  calm,  "let  me  accept  him  first.  I'll  explain  to  you 
afterwards." 

Cornelia  stared  at  her.  For  some  time  she  had  believed 
that,  despite  the  disturbing  influence  of  Mrs.  Jerome  and 
Robert,  there  was  a  fairly  good  chance  of  putting  the  St. 
Hilaire  marriage  through.  She  had  cherished  this  belief 


428  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

until  today.  Then  she  suddenly  learned  that  Janet  had  all 
along  been  carrying  on  an  intrigue  with  Mrs.  R.  H.  L. 
Jerome,  the  upshot  of  which  was  that  the  benevolent  Cor- 
nelia's plans  were  to  be  set  wholly  at  naught.  And  as  if 
this  humiliation  were  not  enough,  Janet  had  entertained  the 
disloyal  scheme  of  deserting  the  Maison  Paulette  at  barely 
a  day's  notice. 

These  distressing  facts  had  transpired  scarcely  half  an 
hour  ago.  And  now  Janet  was  again  serenely  proposing  to 
marry  M.  St.  Hilaire!  She  had  been  acting  hi  this  erratic 
fashion  ever  since  Robert  came  on  the  scene.  Had  he  had 
anything  to  do  with  this  latest  change  of  heart? 

"I'll  tell  M.  St.  Hilaire  to  come  up,"  she  said  tonelessly, 
paralyzed  by  the  instability  of  her  friend's  decisions.  "The 
coast  is  quite  clear.  Mazie  is  upstairs  with  Harry,  and 
Robert  has  just  gone  to  Fontainebleau  for  the  day." 

She  omitted  to  say  that  she  had  packed  him  off  on  a 
factitious  errand. 

"Yes,"  she  continued,  her  cadenced  speech  picking  up  as 
she  went  on.  "I  told  him  to  make  the  most  of  his  glorious 
freedom.  You  know,  he's  as  good  as  betrothed  to  Char- 
lotte Beecher." 

"How  lucky  for  them  both!"  said  Janet  hypocritically. 

Cornelia  went  out,  having  thus  drawn  the  long  bow  at  a 
venture.  And  not,  she  trusted,  in  vain. 

VI 

M.  St.  Hilaire  came  in.  Janet  had  never  been  tempted 
to  rave  over  him  as  Cornelia  lately  did.  She  thought  him  a 
little  too  short,  but  she  admitted  that  his  well-poised  figure, 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  429 

ruddy  complexion,  and  auburn  beard  were  a  delight  to  the 
eye.  And  she  liked  his  courtly  and  somewhat  superior 
demeanor. 

Yet,  at  the  first  intimate  touch  of  his  hand,  she  recoiled 
almost  with  violence. 

Her  sudden  start  robbed  him  of  every  shred  of  confi- 
dence. And  it  astonished  Janet  herself.  The  fascination 
of  Claude  and  the  voltaic  attraction  of  Robert  had  put 
these  two,  for  her,  in  a  class  by  themselves.  But  she  had 
met  men  who  were  not  half  so  agreeable  to  talk  to  or  to  look 
upon  as  M.  St.  Hilaire — men  whose  company  was  dull  or 
whose  personalities  she  disapproved  of  and  yet  whose 
caresses  she  would  not  have  wished  to  repel. 

It  had  been  this  way  ever  since  their  first  meeting  in 
Brussels.  M.  St.  Hilaire  had  befriended  her  in  a  time  of 
need,  he  possessed  many  mental  and  material  advantages, 
he  was  the  father  of  Henriette.  But  he  lacked  some  one 
thing  needful.  When  she  dreamed  her  day  dreams,  she 
never  pictured  him;  and  when  he  touched  her,  she  never 
thrilled. 

True,  in  his  absence,  she  thought  of  him  (if  she  thought 
of  him  at  all)  as  precisely  the  sort  of  man  a  girl  ought  to  be 
able  to  love.  But  in  his  presence  she  was  overwhelmed 
with  the  single  conviction  that  to  live  with  him  would  be 
more  than  she  could  bear.  The  conviction  was  absurd,  un- 
just, incomprehensible;  yet  it  was  not  to  be  gainsaid. 

Sensing  her  thoughts,  M.  St.  Hilaire  was  disheartened. 

"I  hoped  I  had  made  amends,"  he  said,  in  sorrowful  allu- 
sion to  the  cause  of  their  rupture  in  Brussels.  "But  I  see 
you've  never  forgiven  me." 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  she  cried,  with  a  pang  of  remorse.    "I've 


430  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

forgotten  all  about  that.  Please  believe  me.  It  isn't  that 
at  all.  It's — I  don't  quite  know — something  tells  me  that 
I  simply  can't  live  with  you  as  your  wife." 

He  rose,  by  main  force  suppressing  caustic  and  resentful 
comments  that  leapt  to  the  tip  of  his  tongue.  He  had  one 
more  card  to  play. 

"And  you  mean  to — to  go  back  on  Henriette?"  he  asked, 
in  measured  tones. 

She  came  to  his  side  and,  affectionately  taking  his  hand, 
began: 

"I'm  terribly  fond  of  Henriette — " 

The  door  flew  open  and  in  walked  Robert!  But  stopped 
on  the  instant!  He  saw  Janet  caressing  the  arm  of  M.  St. 
Hilaire,  heard  the  tender  words,  and  felt  the  whole  universe 
reel. 

In  the  flash  of  an  eye,  he  pulled  himself  together. 

"Pardon,"  he  said  between  his  teeth.  And,  turning 
sharply  round,  flung  headlong  out. 

Janet  gazed  after  him  in  stupefaction. 

She  never  knew  how  she  finished  the  interview  with  M. 
St.  Hilaire,  nor  how,  with  a  hardening  of  her  voice,  she 
made  it  clear  to  him  that,  in  a  straight  conflict  between 
Henriette's  self-interest  and  her  own,  it  was  not  the  former 
that  she  was  bound  to  consult. 

M.  St.  Hilaire  took  his  dismissal  with  a  good  deal  of 
dignity  and  self-control,  albeit  Janet's  display  of  firmness 
had  excited  a  deeper  emotion  than  any  woman  had  ever 
aroused  in  him  before.  An  unconsidered  trifle,  snatched 
away,  may  become  the  heart's  desire.  And  Janet  had 
ranked  far  higher  than  a  trifle  in  M.  St.  Hilaire's  European 
scale  of  values,  at  least  since  her  departure  from  Brussels. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  431 

Yet,  throughout  his  courtship  of  this  strange,  incalculable 
American  girl,  he  had  never  been  quite  free  from  an  uneasy 
fear  that  the  marriage  might  prove  a  social  indiscretion.  He 
now  felt  certain  that  his  choice  had  been  in  keeping  with 
the  very  best  taste.  And  this  certainty,  while  adding 
poignancy  to  his  loss,  afforded  some  consolation  to  his  pride. 

VII 

As  for  Janet,  she  fairly  bolted  upstairs  and  threw  a 
bombshell  into  the  gymnasium  by  the  summary  announce- 
ment of  her  intention  to  leave  for  England  with  Mrs. 
Jerome  next  day.  An  unalterable  intention.  She  was 
determined  to  establish  her  independence  not  by  marriage 
but  by  hard  work. 

Mazie  listened  to  her  with  very  mixed  feelings;  Harry 
Kelly  looked  like  one  who  heard  the  rumble  of  an  approach- 
ing earthquake;  Cornelia  stood  petrified. 

She  came  to  life  again  with  a  sinister,  arpeggiative  laugh. 

"So  you'll  go  trapesing  to  America  on  Robert's  heels, 
after  all?"  she  said.  "To  dish  his  whole  career!" 

"Cornelia,  you're  a  devil!"  cried  Janet,  incandescent  with 
anger.  "I'd  like  to  know  the  reason,  the  real  reason  for 
your  anxiety  to  get  me  married  to  M.  St.  Hilaire.  Not 
to  do  me  a  good  turn,  that's  one  sure  thing." 

Mazie  advanced  between  them. 

"Say,  Janet,"  she  called  out,  pacifico-satirically,  "even 
the  devil  sometimes  does  a  pal  a  good  turn — just  for  a 
change." 

Cornelia  extinguished  her  with  a  gesture.     ' 


432  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Why  did  you  ever  run  away  with  Claude,"  she  said, 
turning  to  Janet  again,  "if  you  were  so  gone  on  Robert?" 

"How  was  I  to  tell  the  difference  between  an  infatuation 
that  was  bound  to  perish  and  a  love  that  had  scarcely  been 
born?"  replied  Janet,  once  more  her  cool,  keen  self.  "How 
was  I  to  tell,  until  I  had  tried  them  out?" 

"Tried  them  out!  Words  fail  to  describe  your  morals, 
Janet.  But  go  on  your  own  way  rejoicing,  my  dear.  Hang 
yourself  around  Robert's  neck,  if  you  like.  You'll  make  a 
charming  picture  there,  I'm  sure.  Of  course,  clinging  vines 
have  gone  out  of  fashion.  But  clinging  leeches  are  always 
with  us." 

Janet  went  out  ignoring  these  insults  and  mutely  denying 
Harry  Kelly's  passionate  appeal  to  her  not  to  mind  what 
Cornelia  was  saying  in  a  vertigo  of  rage. 

"For  God's  sake,  Cornelia,"  said  Harry,  making  a  frantic 
demonstration,  "don't  let  her  leave  us  like  that." 

"Hold  your  tongue,  you  imbecile!"  called  out  his  wife, 
turning  on  him  fiercely.  "When  I  want  to  play  the  fool, 
I'll  ask  for  your  advice." 

Her  exit,  a  tempestuous  one,  left  Mazie  and  Kelly  alone 
and  forlorn.  Poor  Harry  Kelly  collapsed  in  his  swivel 
chair,  while  Mazie  hovered  around  the  desk  like  a  gadfly. 

"Unless  you  give  her  what  for,"  she  warned  him,  "you'll 
never  travel  on  asphalt." 

He  looked  up  and  feebly  waved  her  away. 

"What  can  I  do?"  he  said  plaintively.  "Just  jawing  back 
won't  help  matters." 

"No,"  said  Mazie  scornfully.  "Jawing  back  won't.  But 
how  about  knocking  her  down  and  jumping  on  her  with 
both  feet?  Gee,  if  I  had  your  strength  for  five  minutes! 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  433 

I  tell  you  what,  my  frazzled  Gorilla,  if  you  don't  mop  up 
the  floor  with  her  this  very  minute,  she'll  make  a  doormat 
of  you  for  the  rest  of  your  life." 

Her  tone  was  slighting,  and  there  was  bark  in  the  dose 
she  administered.  For  a  second,  he  straightened  up.  Then 
he  shook  his  head  at  her,  slumped  again,  and  buckled 
down  to  the  papers  on  the  desk.  Poor  Harry!  His  muscle 
was  willing,  but  his  nerve  was  weak. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINE 


The  blow  which  Robert  got  between  the  eyes  when  he 
saw  Janet  and  St.  Hilaire  together  had  left  him  stunned. 
And  he  was  on  the  train  speeding  to  Fontainebleau  before 
he  began  coming  to,  a  painful  process  of  returning  sensi- 
bility, beside  which  the  pins  and  needles  of  a  limb  that  had 
been  asleep  would  have  seemed  the  merest  child's  play. 

The  wild  nomadic  images  that  chased  one  another  across 
the  field  of  his  consciousness!  They  racked  his  brain, 
his  world-reforming  brain,  and  limited  his  feverish  intro- 
spection to  one  discovery,  the  startling  discovery  of  how 
very  much  he  was  in  love. 

Rather  an  awkward  plight,  he  told  himself,  for  a  young 
man  who  had  purposed  the  moral  regeneration  of  mankind 
and  in  pursuit  of  this  purpose  had  sworn  to  spurn  fate, 
scorn  death,  and  set  his  hopes  above  happiness  and  love. 
Especially  love!  Didn't  all  the  Dick  Dudgeons  and  Devil's 
Disciples  begin  by  renouncing  love?  Indeed,  didn't  they 
make  this  renunciation  a  cardinal  point  of  honor? 

To  think  that  even  Cornelia  had  cautioned  him  against 
making  an  utter  ass  of  himself  about  Janet!  Cautioned 
him  in  vain.  And  Janet,  too,  had  tried  her  hardest  to  warn 
him  off  by  jibing  at  his  poverty.  This  cruel  kindness  had 
almost  worked;  almost,  but  not  quite.  The  poet,  the  lunatic, 
the  lover — they  were  the  embodiments  of  diseases  (Shake- 
speare had  said  it!),  diseases  that  resisted  the  most  des- 
perate remedies. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  435 

Of  course  she  preferred  St.  Hilaire  to  himself.  Why  not? 
According  to  his  own  theories,  he  should  be  the  first  to 
dub  her  an  imbecile  if  she  didn't.  When  she  needed  sex  to 
gratify  desire,  she  had  taken  Claude  by  preference.  Now 
that  she  needed  a  position,  she  would  take  St.  Hilaire.  And 
rightly  so. 

He  had  nothing  to  offer  her  but  his  brains. 

Brains  and  no  money!  And  that  in  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury, the  triumphant  mechanical  century,  in  which  any  fool 
with  a  little  low  cunning  and  a  good  thick  skin  could  make 
money  by  the  bushel. 

What  on  earth  had  possessed  Mark  Pryor  to  start  him  on 
this  trail?  Confound  it!  It  had  all  grown  out  of  a  chance 
encounter  with  Pryor  in  Charlotte  Beecher's  studio  one  fatal 
afternoon.  The  fellow  had  taken  him  aside  and  poured 
out  a  harrowing  story  of  Janet's  miseries  coupled  with  a 
picture  of  her  dependence  on  Cornelia!  But  for  that 
rencontre,  he  wouldn't  have  gone  on  this  wild-goose  chase 
from  Geneva  to  Paris  to  rescue  Janet  from  a  gilded  cage. 

A  gilded  cage!  No,  by  heaven!  He  might  be  living  in 
a  gilded  cage  himself  (the  gilt  being  drawn  from  Charlotte 
Beecher's  gilt-edged  securities),  instead  of  in  one-third 
of  a  model  tenement  flat  in  Kips  Bay.  To  think  that  Pryor, 
the  transcendently  practical  Pryor,  should  have  been  the 
instigator  of  this  fatuous  proceeding!  Hang  the  fellow  for 
his  unwarranted  meddling  and  plausible  tongue! 

He  reached  Fontainebleau  in  a  drizzling  rain  and  voted 
it  a  sleek  and  stupid  place.  In  the  chilly  Hotel  de  Londres 
he  had  ample  leisure  to  reflect  on  his  folly.  Sightseeing! 
His  business  in  the  world  was  to  create  new  sights  not  to 
see  old  ones.  A  fat  lot  he  cared  for  chateaux  in  which  the 


436  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

greasy  Bourbons  had  entertained  their  mistresses  and  in 
which  streams  of  tourists  would  be  sure  to  blink  in  awe  at 
vulgarly  showy  decorations  or  childishly  ornamented  bric- 
a-brac,  not  to  mention  the  celebrated,  idiotic  insipidities 
painted  by  Boucher  and  David. 

Merely  to  read  about  these  "sights"  in  the  guidebook 
made  him  sick.  Why  hadn't  he  followed  his  own  nose 
instead  of  letting  Cornelia  map,  or  rather,  Baedeker,  his 
course  for  him? 

"What  dire  offence  from  trival  causes  springs,"  he 
silently  quoted.  His  present  plight  was  the  result  of  putting 
Cornelia  into  a  bad  temper  at  the  breakfast  table  that 
morning.  Afterwards,  he  had  gone  to  pacify  her,  a  feat 
he  had  so  often  accomplished  before.  So  often,  in  fact,  that 
it  seemed  to  him  rather  a  joke  to  watch  Cornelia's  stony 
heart  melt  into  abject  sentimentality.  A  double-edged  joke, 
now  he  came  to  think  it  over,  in  his  present  plight. 

Well,  on  this  occasion  she  had  not  been  as  wax  in  his 
hands.  Nor  had  she  been  sentimental.  True,  she  had 
apparently  let  herself  be  mollified  as  of  old.  But  he  was 
so  absorbed  in  Janet  that  he  failed  to  be  struck  by  her 
unusual  manner.  In  retrospect  it  stood  out.  Cornelia  had 
become  playful :  it  was  the  playfulness  of  the  panther. 

She  had  begged  him  to  go  to  Fontainebleau,  pointing 
out  that  everybody  went  at  least  once  in  a  lifetime,  and 
that  he  could  oblige  her  by  doing  his  duty  to  himself  and 
performing  a  service  for  her  at  one  and  the  same  time. 
The  service  (it  would  save  Harry  a  journey!)  was  to  give 
a  commission  for  a  special  Paulette  design  to  an  artist  who 
had  an  open-air  studio  in  the  famous  Fontainebleau  forest. 

On  his  way  from  Paulette's  to  the  Gare  de  Lyon  he  had 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  437 

wondered  whether  Janet  wouldn't  be  mightily  piqued  by 
his  unannounced  absence  of  two  days.  Two  days  cut 
clean  out  of  a  visit  that  was  not  scheduled  to  be  a  long  one! 
Well,  if  she  was  piqued,  so  much  the  better. 

Yes,  but  mightn't  she  suppose  him  deeply  wounded  by 
her  wantonly  taunting  shot  at  his  impecunious,  ineligible 
pretentions?  Possibly.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had 
been  deeply  wounded.  A  taunt  from  her  lips,  at  such  a 
moment,  and  in  such  a  style!  It  was  horribly  unlike  the 
Janet  he  had  known  in  Kips  Bay.  Had  she  really  become 
calculating  to  her  finger  tips  in  accordance  with  the  law  of 
the  evolution  of  the  Lorillardian  female?  Did  her  raptur- 
ous return  of  his  kisses  mean  nothing  to  her? 

Oh,  well,  after  a  tremendous  love  affair  like  hers  with 
Claude,  a  young  lady  was  probably  as  much  thrilled  by  a 
kiss  of  rapture  now  and  then,  as  by  an  extra  slice  of  toast 
at  breakfast. 

So  he  had  reasoned  as  he  was  about  to  jump  on  a  bus 
running  to  the  Lyon  station.  He  had  stopped  and  retraced 
his  steps  to  the  Maison  Paulette,  telling  himself  that  as  a 
sane  and  sensible  citizen  of  the  world  it  would  be  much 
better  to  bid  her  a  brief  good-bye. 

Here  in  Fontainebleau  his  memory  retraced  these  steps 
for  the  fiftieth  time.  Cornelia  had  been  in  the  exhibition 
room,  thank  heaven.  So  he  had  hurried  upstairs  to  the 
gymnasium,  stopping  to  glance  in  at  the  private  office  on 
his  way.  That  was  how  he  had  come  to  swing  open  the 
door  and  burst  incontinently  upon  Janet  and  St.  Hilaire. 

Certainly,  there  was  nothing  like  a  smasher  in  the  face 
for  making  you  feel  things  you  had  been  innocent  of  feeling 
before. 


438  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Let  the  pain  do  the  work!"  said  Robert,  quoting  to 
himself  the  oldest  and  most  respected  maxim  known  to  the 
medical  profession.  Then  he  went  to  bed. 

A  sleepless  night  followed. 

n 

The  weather  next  morning  was  brisk  and  clear.  Under 
its  inspiration  Robert  began  to  recover  from  the  depression 
of  the  night  before  and,  for  a  time  at  least,  to  drive  away 
the  misgivings  that  had  tormented  him.  He  yielded  to  the 
beauty  of  the  forest  of  Fontainebleau,  a  fact  which  made 
the  discharge  of  his  mission  for  Cornelia  much  less  tedious 
than  he  had  dreaded. 

During  his  return  through  wooded  walks  to  the  town, 
he  so  far  regained  his  self-confidence  that  he  was  able  to 
laugh  at  yesterday's  morbid  speculations  and  nightmarish 
fancies.  What  a  bother  he  had  made  about  a  crisis  that 
ought  to  have  been  foreseen,  and  a  sequel  that  ought  to 
have  been  taken  for  granted! 

And,  as  a  pure  point  of  information,  could  he  be  abso- 
lutely sure  that  Janet  really  did  mean  to  marry  St.  Hilaire? 

This  startling  query,  coming  like  a  whisper  from  the 
void,  crystallized  a  decision  towards  which  he  had  uncon- 
sciously been  groping.  He  would  return  posthaste  to  Paris 
and  level  the  invisible  wall  that  had  sprung  up  between 
Janet  and  himself.  "An  invisible  wall!"  To  suppose  that 
a  figment  like  that  could  separate  two  people  endowed 
with  good  will,  quick  wit,  and  flexible  tongues,  was  to  insult 
his  intelligence. 

Parks,  palaces,  gardens,  and  all  the  other  sights  of  Fon- 
tainebleau could  go  hang! 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  439 

He  tingled  with  shame  as  he  reflected  that  now,  more 
than  at  any  other  moment  since  the  dissolution  of  the  firm 
of  Barr  and  Lloyd,  Janet  might  need  the  friendly  counsel 
or  the  sympathetic  ear  that  he  had  pressed  upon  her  with 
unlimited  enthusiasm  in  their  Kips  Bay  workshop.  Yet  this 
was  the  moment  he  had  chosen  in  which  to  act  like  the 
screen  hero  who  advances  his  money  or  his  time  to  the 
heroine  in  amounts  arithmetically  proportioned  to  the  exact 
quantity  of  amorous  response  from  the  lady's  side.  True, 
this  sordid  barter  was  the  popular  American  conception  of 
the  course  of  true  love.  But  did  he  propose  to  fall  in  with 
this  conception?  Was  he  ready  to  prostitute  his  gifts  to 
the  worship  of  the  great  Atlantic  bitch-goddess,  Success? 

If  only  he  had  been  in  a  position  to  make  Janet  a  toler- 
ably acceptable  offer  of  marriage! 

Still,  no  need  to  blink  the  fact  that  he  was  now  better 
circumstanced  than  at  any  time  since  leaving  the  Evening 
Chronicle.  Hadn't  the  Confederated  Press  given  him  this 
assignment  at  Geneva,  the  most  responsible  assignment  in 
its  province?  He  flattered  himself  that  he  had  reported 
the  proceedings  of  the  Labor  Congress  with  a  color,  vivid- 
ness, trenchancy,  and  fire  none  too  common  in  American 
journalism.  It  ought  to  make  people  at  home  sit  up  and 
take  notice;  it  might  lead  to  a  much  more  profitable  com- 
mission. Look  where  Hutchins  Burley's  articles  on  the 
Colorado  mine  strike  had  carried  him,  chock-full  of  rhetor- 
ical clap-trap  and  maudlin  pathos  though  the  beggar's 
work  had  been! 

A  pity  that  the  Confederated  Press  served  chiefly  radical 
newspapers  with  a  limited  circulation!  It  kept  your  tenure 
on  quicksand.  He  might  have  to  yield  to  temptation  and 


440  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

falsify  his  better  self  by  sinking  into  one  of  the  fat  jobs 
that  the  plutocratic  press  would  now  be  sure  to  offer  him. 

For  the  sake  of  marrying  Janet?  No,  no,  it  wouldn't  do 
at  all.  Not  even  if  she  were  insane  enough  to  be  willing  to 
take  the  plunge.  He  pictured  himself  and  her  together  in 
the  marital  state,  saw  the  cramped  Harlem  flat  in  which 
they'd  be  boxed  up.  Both  working  of  course!  No  con- 
veniences, no  facilities  for  either  sociability  or  solitude,  no 
children  (on  less  than  ten  thousand  a  year  birth  control 
would  be  imperative),  no  health.  And  the  economies  they'd 
have  to  practice!  They'd  have  to  deny  themselves  freedom 
of  movement,  shun  social  and  professional  contacts,  and 
take  refuge  in  an  isolation  paralyzing  to  their  talents. 

Until  death  did  them  part — 

Thousands  of  childless  couples  in  every  big  city  existed 
thus.  And  the  lives  they  led  were  hell. 

In  spite  of  which  solemn  conclusion  Robert  had  no 
sooner  reached  his  hotel  than  he  prepared  to  desert  the 
spacious  freedom  of  Fontainebleau.  And  he  actually  took 
the  first  afternoon  train  back  to  Paris  with  the  express  pur- 
pose of  seeking  Janet  out  for  a  heart-to-heart  talk. 

The  perfection  of  French  "system,"  so  extensively  adver- 
tised on  paper,  is  also  realized  on  paper,  and  there  only. 
This  truth  was  once  more  brought  home  to  Robert  when, 
grimy  with  soot,  he  reached  the  capital  long  after  his  train 
was  due.  He  decided  to  skip  the  supper  at  Paulette's, 
partly  from  a  desire  to  avoid  Cornelia,  partly  from  a  hope 
that  he  might  find  Janet  alone  after  Harry  Kelly  and  his 
wife  had  left,  as  they  often  did,  for  an  evening's  entertain- 
ment. 

A  bus  to  the  American  Express  Company  enabled  him 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  441 

to  get  his  mail  just  before  the  office  closed.  He  kept  the 
dozen-odd  letters  in  his  pocket,  intending  to  read  them 
whilst  taking  a  snack  in  a  quaint,  spotless  little  dairy  res- 
taurant (the  a  toute  heure  shop,  as  he  and  Janet  called  it, 
in  allusion  to  its  boast  of  never  closing)  hi  the  Boulevard 
Montmartre. 

The  waitress  having  taken  his  order,  he  rapidly  sorted 
out  his  letters,  seven  or  eight  of  which  had  official  or  com- 
mercial headings  that  at  once  betrayed  the  enclosures  as 
mere  announcements  or  bills.  These  he  stuffed  back  unread 
into  his  pocket.  Of  the  remaining  few,  the  first  one  proved 
to  be  from  the  London  agent  of  the  Confederated  Press. 
This  was  the  man  under  whose  orders  he  worked  while  in 
Europe.  A  grudging,  carping  cuss!  Robert  hoped  that  the 
fellow  had  at  last  seen  the  light  (of  Robert's  merit),  and 
that  handsome  amends  were  forthcoming. 

The  message  ordered  him  home  to  New  York  at  once! 

So  much  for  the  recognition  and  advancement  which  his 
gorgeous  accounts  of  the  Labor  Congress  were  to  bring  him. 
Had  the  ironical  shafts,  tipped  with  caustic  wit  and  aimed 
at  the  rancor  and  obstructiveness  of  some  of  the  labor  lead- 
ers, given  mortal  offence  to  his  own  side? 

With  a  horrible  sense  of  the  insecurity  of  life,  and  with 
a  nameless  dread  more  invasive  and  powerful  than  any  he 
had  ever  known  before,  he  reached  the  Maison  Paulette 
about  an  hour  later.  He  met  one  of  the  principal  manikins 
at  the  door. 

"Mademoiselle  Janet?  Hadn't  he  heard  the  tragic  news? 
C'est  si  triste.  The  whole  Maison  was  in  mourning. 
Mademoiselle  had  departed  that  very  noon  with  Mrs. 
R.  H.  L.  Jerome,  the  great  rich  lady  without  a  heart.  Ah, 
comme  c'est  triste  1" 


442  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

m 

The  "Touraine"  had  been  two  days  out  from  Havre  in 
weather  decidedly  rough,  before  Robert  got  his  sea-legs 
back  again.  Others  on  board  were  doubtless  still  deploring 
the  pit  of  instability  that  lurks  beneath  the  surface  of 
things.  But  as  a  rule  their  reflections  had  an  origin  that 
was  strictly  physical.  Robert,  on  his  first  brisk  walk 
around  the  second-class  deck,  reasoned  from  premises  of 
a  very  different  nature. 

For  he  had  reached  a  point  where  he  felt  constrained  to 
take  a  sort  of  inventory  of  himself,  a  mental  stock-listing 
of  his  reverses,  his  prospects,  and  his  altered  outlook  on 
affairs. 

Not  that  his  theories  had  changed  in  substance. 

From  first  to  last,  his  mind  had  been  filled  with  a  fierce 
impatience  of  the  stupidity  of  man  today  and  an  unquench- 
able faith  in  a  sanity  to  come.  Evil,  as  he  conceived  it,  was 
a  by-product  of  human  growth,  and  not,  as  Shelley  conceived 
it,  something  imposed  on  man  by  a  malignant  external 
power  on  the  fall  of  which  the  race  would  at  once  become 
perfect.  In  short,  he  believed  that  the  incessant  conflict  of 
life  was  largely  a  struggle  between  high  and  low  desires, 
with  money  and. numbers  on  the  side  of  Satan,  and  high- 
spirited  intelligence  on  the  side  of  the  angels. 

In  America,  to  be  sure,  where  achievements  not  open  to 
a  flat  cash  interpretation  are  passed  by  with  a  shrug  or  a 
vulgar  joke,  Robert's  view  of  life  had  excited  as  much 
interest  as  a  whisper  in  the  wind.  The  few  who  gave  his 
philosophy  a  brief  attention  had  hastily  dismissed  it  as 
a  matter  for  milksops  or  imbeciles;  on  the  fool  who 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  443 

preached  this  philosophy  they  had  bestowed  a  cynical  pity, 
and  on  the  failure  who  practised  it,  an  amused  contempt. 

The  failure  who  practised  it!  Robert  knew  that,  judged 
by  every  standard  save  his  own,  he  was  a  failure,  a  com- 
plete, incurable  failure.  He  did  not  try  to  dodge  this 
unanimous  judgment.  He  despised  it  as  much  as  he  exulted 
in  his  own  faith.  To  be  exact,  as  much  as  he  had  exulted  in 
his  own  faith. 

For  the  blow  that  had  knocked  him  galley-west  in  the 
office  of  the  Maison  Paulette  had  seriously  shaken  his  self- 
confidence. 

A  review  of  his  recent  conduct  led  him  straight  to  a  very 
unpalatable  verdict.  He  had  behaved  as  stupidly  towards 
Janet  as  any  average  man  of  stone-age  instincts.  Because 
she  had  made  one  risky  experiment  in  the  field  of  sex  and 
had  almost  been  tempted  to  make  an  even  riskier  experi- 
ment in  the  field  of  subsistence,  he  had  displayed  in  turn 
his  pique,  jealousy,  anger  and  scorn.  The  childish  resent- 
ment that  had  mastered  him!  And  this  when  he  owed  Janet 
unbounded  gratitude  for  her  wisdom  in  frightening  him  off 
from  a  suicidal  offer  of  marriage.  In  his  varied  exhibition 
of  neolithic  folly,  where  was  the  high-spirited  intelligence 
he  boasted  of  possessing? 

Look  how  Janet  had  stuck  to  her  guns!  As  he  might 
have  foreseen  (if  he  hadn't  been  a  perfect  donkey! ),  she  was 
going  to  make  a  glorious  fight  of  it,  on  her  own.  She  had 
given  to  Caesar  the  things  that  were  Caesar's;  and  for  the 
rest,  she  had  kept  her  integrity  intact. 

Incidentally,  there  was  a  grain  of  comfort  in  the  fact 
that  she  hadn't  accepted  M.  St.  Hilaire  after  all.  A  grain! 
Say  rather,  several  tons. 


444  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Suspending  this  train  of  thought,  Robert  turned  to  his 
other  great  problem,  his  work  in  the  labor  movement.  He 
asked  himself  whether  he,  like  Janet,  had  kept  his  integrity 
intact.  Two  weeks  ago  he  would  have  shouted  out  a  tri- 
umphant yes.  But  now  the  thin  edge  of  doubt  had 
entered  his  soul.  This  incorruptible,  critical  gift  —  the  gift 
above  all  others  that  he  prized  —  was  he  justified  in  push- 
ing its  exercise  to  the  furthest  limit?  He  had  always  rejoiced 
in  the  uncompromising  candor  with  which  he  had  exposed 
and  flayed  the  special  weaknesses  of  the  radical  leaders, 
the  general  deficiencies  of  his  own  side.  But  when  candor 
compelled  you  to  smite  people  in  the  fifth  rib  in  order  to 
save  their  souls,  weren't  you  carrying  virtue  a  little  too  far? 

Well,  his  employers  on  the  Confederated  Press  thought 
so.  And  that  they  were  not  alone  in  their  opinion  was  evi- 
dent from  his  several  failures.  He  counted  them  up:  the 
Evening  Chronicle,  the  Guild  movement,  the  attempt  to 
unionize  the  mercantile  workers,  the  Labor  Party  publicity, 
and  now  this  latest  debacle.  Not  to  mention  his  friendships! 

He  retained  the  hearty  confidence  of  nobody. 

Ought  a  successful  honest  man,  then,  to  show  as  much 
discretion  in  the  practice  of  candor  as  a  successful  knave 
shows  in  the  practice  of  deceit?  It  would  seem  so.  Plainly, 
he  who  would  change  the  moral  standards  of  his  kind  could 
not  afford  to  be  one  thing  to  all  men.  Not  a  specialist  or 
an  extremist,  in  short. 

How  to  be  an  aggressive  revolutionist  and  at  the  same  time 
a  progressive  evolutionist — this  was  the  paradox  that  every 
effective  radical  had  to  embody  in  his  own  life. 

It  was  clear  that  he  would  have  to  begin  again  at  the 
bottom  of  the  ladder. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  445 

This  being  so,  the  first  thing  to  do  was  to  ascertain  his 
liabilities,  material  no  less  than  spiritual. 

Here  Robert  was  reminded  abruptly  of  the  half  dozen 
letters — bills,  circulars,  and  the  like,  as  he  surmised — which 
he  had  rammed  into  his  coat  pocket  at  the  a  toute  heure  res- 
taurant. The  coat  in  question  was  in  his  stateroom  and  he 
would  look  for  the  letters  when  he  went  below. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  found  them.  One  of  the  first 
envelopes  bore  the  heading:  Simons  and  Hunt,  Attorneys- 
at-Law,  ISO  Broadway.  It  had  two  enclosures.  The  first 
one  he  opened  read: 

My  Dear  Nephew: 

About  a  year  ago  you  wrote  to  me  suggesting  that  I  do 
something  handsome  by  you.  In  your  own  delicate  words 
you  asked  me  to  subsidize  your  imagination,  a  quality  you 
believed  of  sufficient  value  to  your  fellow  men  to  be  worth 
preserving.  As  a  proof  that  you  possessed  this  quality,  you 
provided  me  with  an  outline  of  your  career  in  all  its  ups  and 
downs,  chiefly  downs.  You  were  also  good  enough  to  favor 
me  with  copies  of  your  several  articles  on  social  and  indus- 
trial reform. 

As  I  am  in  receipt  of  some  ten  thousand  requests  for 
money  every  year,  it  is  obviously  impossible  for  me  to 
comply  with  them  all.  And  I  am  bound  to  say  that  I  saw 
no  reason  for  complying  with  your  jequest,  the  more  so  in 
that  its  tone  of  mockery  and  sly  derision  led  me  to  doubt 
whether  it  was  made  in  entire  good  faith.  The  claim  of  kin- 
ship which  you  advanced  (somewhat  belatedly  I  thought) 
had  little  weight  with  me.  You  know  what  family  ties 
are  amongst  the  Lloyds!  I  was  but  a  youngster  of  fourteen 
when  my  father  and  my  elder  brother  (your  father)  ripped 
up  my  gilded  dreams  of  a  future  as  an  artist  and  hashed 
my  romantic  plans  by  a  single  practical  act.  They  pitched 
me  out  of  the  house  into  the  street.  There  I  remained  to 


446  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

live  on  my  own  wits,  and  this  fate  I  have  had  little  occasion 
to  complain  of. 

But  to  return  to  your  letter.  It  did  not  win  me  to  your 
way  of  thinking.  Nor,  to  be  candid,  did  your  articles  on 
"the  collapse  of  modern  society."  I  will  admit  that  your 
attacks  on  land  speculators  (like  myself)  were  witty,  if  not 
wise.  And  when  you  sailed  into  the  monopoly  on  land 
values,  you  wrote  with  astonishing  authority;  indeed  the 
only  flaw  I  could  find  in  your  otherwise  perfect  qualifica- 
tions for  solving  the  economic  problem  of  land  was  the 
trifling  fact  that  you  had  never  owned  a  foot  of  it. 

This  might  have  passed.  Not  so  your  observations  on 
the  distribution  of  the  country's  wealth  and  other  related 
iniquities.  Here  you  repeated  the  usual  flub-dub  with  the 
usual  fine  flourish  of  the  man  who  imagines  he  has  made  a 
startling  discovery.  Thus,  you  solemnly  pointed  out  that 
there  are  only  two  kinds  of  people  on  earth:  those  who  prey 
and  those  who  are  preyed  upon.  You  announced  that  you 
had  never  seen  the  profiteer  forsaken,  nor  the  preying  man 
begging  his  bread.  And  you  informed  the  world  that  the 
intensified  every  year,  the  sheep  being  now  more  securely 
muzzled  and  more  efficiently  fleeced  than  ever  before. 

Now,  my  dear  nephew,  there  is  nothing  new  in  your  "dis- 
covery." Since  the  days  of  Plato  all  prudent  men  have  been 
of  one  opinion  respecting  the  class  war,  but  no  prudent  man 
has  ever  admitted  it.  Conscious  of  this,  I  was  unmoved 
by  your  ringing  call  to  the  sheep  that  they  had  nothing  to 
lose  but  their  muzzles ;  and  your  desire  to  see  them  organize 
for  the  purpose  of  destroying  the  wolves  by  mass  action,  left 
me  cold.  A  world  of  sheep — and  nothing  but  sheep — would 
not  be  to  my  taste.  For  the  wolves,  whatever  else  we  may 
say  of  them,  at  least  vary  the  drab  monotony  here  below. 
Besides,  I  suspect  that  your  indignation  in  the  matter  of  the 
muzzles  is  largely  shandygaff.  It  is  not  necessary  to  muzzle 
sheep ! 

In  fine,  your  credentials  did  not  greatly  impress  me. 
Your  writings,  it  is  true,  were  clever,  witty,  imaginative. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  447 

But  what  is  imagination  without  matter  or  money  to  work 
upon?  Like  a  spark  without  tinder  on  a  wet  day  in  the 
woods.  At  all  events,  I  could  scarcely  overlook  the  fact 
that,  whereas  7  had  made  a  fortune  by  my  real  estate 
speculation,  you  were  unable  to  make  so  much  as  a  bare 
living  by  your  real  estate  denunciation. 

Have  patience  a  little  longer  with  the  garrulity  of  a  dying 
man.  A  few  weeks  ago,  I  was  taken  ill  with  a  fatal  dilata- 
tion of  the  aorta,  and  the  end  may  come  in  a  day,  a  month, 
a  year.  What  to  do  with  my  investments  became  an  imme- 
diately pressing  problem.  The  charities  I  had  named  in  my 
last  will  were  administered,  as  I  well  knew,  by  a  host  of 
charity-mongers  even  more  distasteful  to  me  than  kith  and 
kin. 

In  this  painful  dilemma  I  read  your  letter  again,  think- 
ing that  my  reaction  to  it,  a  year  ago,  had  been  hasty  or 
unfair.  Perhaps  the  wish  was  father  to  the  thought;  per- 
haps my  infirmity  has  softened  my  brain.  Whatever  the 
cause,  one  passage  in  your  letter  struck  me.  My  eyes  were 
opened  and  I  saw,  or  believed  I  saw,  that  you  were  a  chosen 
vessel  to  bear  my  name  and  fortune  before  the  American 
people.  Accordingly  I  revoked  all  charitable  bequests  and 
appointed  you  as  my  principal  heir  and  assign. 

The  passage  that  took  my  fancy  was  the  one  in  which 
you  declared  that  it  is  nobler  to  spend  a  fortune  than  to 
make  one.  Unhappily,  I  have  never  been  able  to  practice 
this  sentiment  in  full.  Not  that  I  have  failed  to  try.  I 
have  spent  millions  in  my  time.  Indeed  I  feel  justified  in 
saying  that  I  have  been  a  constant  and  deliberate  spend- 
thrift in  the  most  literal  sense  of  the  word.  But,  like  you, 
I  have  an  imagination  (although,  unlike  you,  I  have  always 
prudently  given  my  imagination  the  wherewithal  to  work 
upon).  Thus,  in  the  teeth  of  a  free  and  incessant  expendi- 
ture, my  mind  has  always  produced  far  more  than  my  body 
could  possibly  consume  or  my  hands  give  away.  And  so 
I  come  at  last  to  the  most  tragic  moment  in  a  rich  man's 
life:  that  in  which  he  arranges  lor  others  to  spend  what  he 
himself  has  earned. 


448  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

But  spent  it  must  be.  And  when  I  consider  your  Lloyd 
heredity,  your  childlike  ignorance  of  the  ease  with  which 
money  is  made,  and  your  crushing  innocence  of  the  diffi- 
culty with  which  it  is  spent,  I  feel  I  can  hardly  put  my 
future  in  better  hands  than  yours.  God  bless  you,  my  dear 
nephew,  and  may  your  efforts  at  noble  disbursement  be 
attended  by  success. 

Your  affectionate  uncle, 

Allan  D.  Lloyd. 

Robert's  feelings  beggared  expression. 

Half  dazed,  he  took  out  the  second  enclosure,  a  brief 
communication  from  Messrs.  Simons  and  Hunt,  his  uncle's 
attorneys.  This  notified  him  of  Mr.  Lloyd's  death,  and  con- 
firmed the  fact  of  his  designation  as  the  residuary  legatee. 
After  putting  an  estimate  of  two  million  dollars  on  the 
minimum  value  of  the  estate,  Messrs.  Simons  and  Hunt 
placed  their  services  at  the  disposal  of  the  heir  and  an- 
nounced their  readiness  to  receive  his  instructions. 

Followed  a  blank  in  Robert's  consciousness.  Slowly,  very 
slowly,  this  was  replaced  by  the  sound  of  the  steamer 
throbbing  its  way  across  the  Atlantic. 

IV 

The  day  after  landing,  Robert  paid  Messrs.  Simons  and 
Hunt  a  visit,  with  the  result  that,  on  leaving  their  offices 
in  lower  Broadway,  he  was  a  little  less  haunted  by  the  sus- 
picion that  the  reality  was  a  dream.  A  most  reassuring 
item  was  tucked  away  in  his  pocket  in  the  shape  of  an  ad- 
vance of  cold  cash  amounting  to  two  thousand  dollars,  a 
sum  far  larger  than  any  he  had  ever  been  in  possession  of 
before. 

On  the  theory  that  excess  of  joy,  like  excess  of  sorrow, 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  449 

had  better  be  skimmed  off  by  a  long,  brisk  walk,  Robert 
trusted  to  his  two  legs  to  get  him  back  to  Kips  Bay.  He 
had  planned  no  change  in  his  habits  as  yet;  hence  he  still 
shared  part  of  a  model  flat  with  the  sporting  editor  of  one 
of  the  evening  newspapers. 

He  had  just  turned  from  the  open  court  of  the  Lorillard 
tenement  block  into  the  rather  dark  entrance,  when  what 
appeared  to  be  a  shadow  on  the  wall  assumed  solidity  and 
life,  stepped  alertly  forward,  and  tapped  him  on  the 
shoulder. 

"The  one  man  in  New  York  I  particularly  want  to 
see,"  cried  Mark  Pryor,  in  his  cool,  staccato  tones. 

"The  one  man  in  New  York  I  particularly  want  to 
avoid,"  retorted  Robert,  not  ill-naturedly,  but  with  a  lively 
remembrance  of  Pryor  as  the  engineer  of  his  Parisian  mis- 
adventures. "How  in  thunder  did  you  know  I  was  back?" 

"I  didn't.    Luck  simply  drifted  my  way." 

His  cordial  handshake  accelerated  Robert's  returning 
sense  of  the  reality  of  earthly  affairs.  Pryor  might  be  slim 
and  wiry  enough  to  slip  in  or  out  of  the  most  impossible 
places.  He  might  be  as  elusive  as  a  ghost.  But  there  was 
nothing  weak  or  spirituelle  about  his  grasp  of  one's  hand 
or  his  grip  on  life.  As  for  his  voice,  which  had  a  ring  of 
decency  and  good  intent  always  attractive  to  Robert,  it  dis- 
pelled fanciful  grudges  and  installed  common  sense. 

They  went  to  lunch  together  in  a  favorite  restaurant  of 
Pryor 's,  a  little  Austrian  place  in  one  of  the  side  streets 
east  of  the  Pershing  Square  district. 

"A  fine  scrape  you  got  me  into  with  your  tip  about 
Paris!"  began  Robert,  as  soon  as  they  were  served. 

"I've  never  seen  you  in  better  spirits,"  returned  Pryor, 


450  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

cool  as  a  cucumber.    "Are  you  engaged  to  marry  Janet?" 

Robert  stared  at  him. 

"No,"  he  said  emphatically. 

"Then  you're  not  the  man  I  took  you  for." 

"I'm  not,"  said  Robert,  chuckling. 

So  Pryor  knew  nothing  of  the  inheritance!  And  if  Pryor 
knew  nothing,  who  would  know?  He  had  rather  supposed 
that  the  news  would  create  something  of  a  stir.  The  Loril- 
lard  tenements  and  Kips  Bay  generally  should,  in  all  con- 
science, have  been  agog  with  it.  But  so  far  not  a  word  had 
been  said  by  anybody  he  had  met. 

Clearly,  it  took  a  good  deal  to  ripple  the  pachydermatous 
surface  of  this  monster  city  of  New  York! 

Well,  he  would  volunteer  nothing.  It  was  just  as  well  to 
keep  one  or  two  cards  up  your  sleeve,  especially  when  you 
matched  your  wits  against  a  clever  man  like  Pryor. 

Meanwhile  Pryor  did  the  talking.  Did  Robert  mean  to 
sit  there  and  tell  him  that  he  had  missed  the  opportunity 
of  a  lifetime?  He'd  be  blessed  if  he  ever  threw  him  a 
chance  like  that  again. 

"A  chance!"  interrupted  Robert.  "Are  you  sure  it 
wasn't  a  noose?" 

"Don't  talk  through  your  hat,  Lloyd,"  said  Pryor,  affect- 
ing indignation.  "Janet's  a  girl  in  a  million.  Whoever 
marries  her  is  a  made  man." 

"You  are  a  cool  hand,"  said  Robert,  lost  in  admiration. 
"I  don't  know  what  in  thunder  your  game  is.  Let  me  say 
this,  though.  As  a  man  of  mystery  you  may  be  as  superb 
a  demon  as  Mark  Twain's  Mysterious  Stranger.  But  as  a 
matchmaker  you're  a  hopeless  old  blunderbuss." 

He  briefly  outlined  his  recent  experiences  in  Paris,  hi- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  451 

eluding  the  tableau  of  himself  in  the  act  of  stumbling  upon 
Janet  and  M.  St.  Hilaire;  he  also  sketched  the  sequel  to 
this  climax. 

Pryor's  restless  eyes  remained  singularly  still  during  this 
recital.  At  its  close,  he  offered  one  enigmatic  remark: 

"If  Janet's  coming  to  New  York,  we  may  yet  be  able  to 
pull  the  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire." 

In  response  to  further  questions,  Robert  gave  a  few  inti- 
mate word  pictures  of  unpublishable  incidents  at  the 
Geneva  Labor  Congress.  He  also  touched  rather  pepperily 
on  his  recall  by  the  Confederated  Press. 

"Serve  you  right,"  said  Pryor.  "To  a  plain  man  like 
me  reformers  who  try  to  change  moral  standards,  whether 
for  better  or  for  worse,  are  a  nuisance.  Too  many  obstacles 
cannot  be  put  in  their  path." 

"All  I  did  was  to  tell  the  truth  about  my  own  side,"  said 
Robert  indignantly. 

"What!  Peach  on  your  own  side?  Why,  even  the  yegg- 
men  consider  that  bad  form." 

Robert  smiled  in  spite  of  himself. 

"Nonsense,"  he  said.  "Facts  are  facts.  The  truth  is, 
Americans  habitually  act  like  feeble-minded  weaklings  in 
the  way  they  receive  criticism.  And  we  radicals  share  the 
national  infirmity.  Let  the  least  suggestion  of  disapproval 
be  levelled  at  Columbia,  the  gepn  of  the  ocean,  and  all 
America  foams  at  the  mouth.  This  is  a  joke  to  foreigners; 
it's  a  tragedy  to  us.  I  tell  you,  Pryor,  unless  Americans 
learn  to  stand  up  to  criticism  like  men  and  to  tolerate  dis- 
sent as  the  English,  the  Germans,  and  even  the  French  do, 
they'll  stand  where  they  are — at  the  tail  end  of  the  proces- 
sion of  nations.  Don't  you  agree  with  me?" 


452  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Lord,  yes!  Have  it  your  own  way.  Pull  your  fellow 
radicals  to  pieces  if  necessary.  Treat  'em  rough.  But  don't 
slaughter  'em.  Remember  they're  the  only  leaven  in  the 
slimy  dough." 

"For  an  avowed  conservative,  Pryor,  that's  going  pretty 
far." 

"Oh,  I'll  go  farther  than  that.  I'll  say  that  if  the  Con- 
federated Press  were  to  come  to  grief — which  Heaven 
forbid! — I  should  have  no  means  of  getting  at  the  real 
news  of  the  world.  None  whatever.  Unless  I  could  sneak 
into  some  private  whispering  gallery  in  Washington,  D.  C., 
or  in  Wall  Street,  N.  Y." 

"You  perverse  standpatter,  what  do  you  mean  by  stick- 
ing up  for  my  side?  It  looks  fishy  to  me.  What's  your 
little  game  now,  I  wonder?" 

"Lloyd,  the  time  has  come  to  give  you  a  straight  answer 
to  that  question.  I'm  an  agent  of  the  Secret  Service;  at 
present,  I'm  detailed  to  help  the  Department  of  Justice." 

"The  deuce  you  are!" 

"My  game  has  been  to  watch  the  most  dangerous  radicals 
in  New  York — some  five  hundred  of  them — whose  names 
are  listed  in  the  department's  books.  You  are  one  of  the 
five  hundred." 

"Really!  I  hope  I've  been  a  source  of  ample  diversion? 
As  a  friend,  I'm  always  glad  to  oblige." 

"Dienst  ist  dienst,  as  the  Germans  say.  While  on  duty, 
I  had  no  friends;  I  merely  had  five  hundred  suspects  to 
keep  track  of.  In  point  of  fact,  my  men  have  been  through 
your  effects  several  times.  We  found  nothing  treasonable, 
nothing  seditious,  nothing  compromising,  except  a  copy 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  with  the  first  eight 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  453 

lines  underscored.  I  tried  to  have  your  name  removed  from 
the  black  list.  But  the  damaging  evidence  aforesaid  was  the 
ground  on  which  my  recommendation  was  ignored." 

"Is  this  a  joke?" 

"No,  it's  the  gospel  truth.  But  you  needn't  feel  as 
though  you  had  been  singled  out  for  persecution.  Not  at 
all.  I'm  a  marked  man  as  much  as  you.  If  the  Intelli- 
gence Service  of  the  Government  detects  an  atom  of  intelli- 
gence in  one  of  its  agents,  it  makes  it  a  special  point  always 
to  ignore  that  agent's  recommendations.  Never  mind.  I 
wrote  out  my  resignation  this  morning.  Here  it  is.  It  goes 
to  Washington  at  once." 

"Surely,  Pryor,  you  have  other  reasons  for  resigning  the 
job?" 

"Ah,  now  you're  coming  to  it.  For  weeks  past,  I've  been 
saturating  my  mind  with  radical  literature.  Tons  of  it. 
From  professional  motives  solely,  of  course.  After  a  stu- 
dious and  impartial  consideration  of  facts  and  principles, 
I've  come  to  a  very  curious  pass." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you've  been  converted!" 
said  Robert,  rising  excitedly  from  his  chair. 

"Yes,  I've  been  converted.  Not  to  radicalism,  mind. 
Personally,  I'm  a  firm  believer  in  the  aristocratic  state  as 
championed  by  Plato,  Ruskin,  and  Carlyle,  the  state  in 
which  the  Government  is  carried  on  by  those  whose  equip- 
ment best  fits  them  to  govern.  We'll  reach  this  state — 
in  about  a  thousand  years.  Meanwhile,  I've  been  con- 
verted not  to  radicalism,  but  to  the  view 'that  the  radicals 
are  right  in  theory  and  the  Government  wrong  in  practice; 
the  former  right  in  demanding  a  complete  restoration  of 


454  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

civil  liberty  and  an  enormous  grant  of  industrial  liberty, 
the  latter  wrong  in  thwarting  these  demands." 

After  a  few  moments  spent  in  digesting  Pryor's  astonish- 
ing admissions,  Robert  said: 

"One  good  surprise  deserves  another." 

'"Fire  away." 

"I've  just  inherited  two  million  dollars!" 

Pryor  was  stupefied. 

"Where  the  blue  blazes  did  you  get  it  from?"  he  cried, 
his  long  neck  rising  telescopically  out  of  his  stand-up  collar. 

"That's  one  piece  of  information  that  hasn't  drifted 
your  way,  at  all  events,"  said  Robert,  taking  a  malicious 
pleasure  in  Pryor's  stupefaction. 

A  marked  pause  followed.  Then  Pryor,  having  congratu- 
lated Robert,  said  abruptly: 

'"As  far  as  I  can  see,  nothing  now  stands  in  the  way  of 
your  marriage  to  Charlotte  Beecher." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

Searching  glances  were  exchanged.  Each  recognized  in 
the  other  a  man  of  rare  talent  and  unusual  probity,  and 
trusted  him  accordingly.  Pryor  took  the  plunge. 

He  remarked  quietly  that,  during  Robert's  absence 
abroad,  he  and  Charlotte  had  become  very  good  friends. 
He  was  well  aware  of  her  intense  attachment  to  Robert.  She 
had,  in  fact,  talked  about  it  freely  and  frankly  to  him.  Thus 
he  knew  that  she  had  taken  the  initiative  in  proposing 
marriage  to  Robert,  a  very  natural  step,  inasmuch  as  she 
was  in  the  vastly  superior  position.  He  knew,  however, 
that  Robert  had  refused  on  the  ground  of  the  extreme 
inequality  of  their  circumstances. 

With  the  best  will  in  the  world,  Robert  found  it  difficult 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  455 

to  reply.  Habit  and  custom  were  strong  against  a  ventila- 
tion of  his  refusal  and  of  the  real  reasons  underlying  it. 

"The  truth  is,"  he  said,  after  a  second's  hesitation, 
"Charlotte  and  I  would  be  very  poor  partners  on  a  long 
dull  grind,  and  this  is  what  modern  marriage  has  become. 
We're  excellent  friends.  We  put  a  fine  edge  on  each  other's 
faculties.  When  we  meet,  the  blue  sparks  fly.  In  fact,  they 
fly  too  much." 

"Say  what  you  like,  she  could  at  least  take  you  to  art 
galleries  and  concerts,  and  count  on  you  as  a  sympathetic 
companion.  That's  where  I  failed  her.  I'm  such  a  duffer 
in  matters  of  art.  And  as  for  music!  Lord,  I  hardly  know 
the  difference  between  Beethoven  and  a  beet." 

"Don't  let  that  worry  you.  For  all  that  Charlotte  and  I 
pull  so  well  together,  our  points  of  agreement  are  mostly 
on  the  surface.  True,  we  both  get  recreation  from  looking 
at  pictures  or  sculpture  and  listening  to  music.  But  not 
from  the  same  pictures  or  sculpture,  nor  from  the  same 
music.  She's  all  for  chastity  and  restraint  in  art — Hellen- 
ism or  aristocracy,  you'd  call  it.  She  resents  Strauss's 
volcanic  turbulence;  Epstein's  rough-hewn  symbolism 
merely  disgusts  her;  the  brutal  abandon  of  Augustus  John 
drives  her  mad.  Yet  I  swear  by  these  artists  as  she  swears 
by  the  Donatellos,  Brahmses,  and  Raphaels  whose  exhibi- 
tions of  technical  mastery  bore  me  to  extinction.  We 
really  have  nothing  in  common  except  our  recognition  of 
honest  craftsmanship  and  our  joy  in  the  clash  of  tempera- 
ments, instincts  and  opinions." 

"These  differences  that  you  speak  of:  how  do  you  know 
that  they  matter?" 

"Because  they  go  so  deep.    Her  hopes  are  not  my  hopes, 


456  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

her  dreams  are  not  my  dreams,  her  gods  are  not  my  gods. 
These  things  are  of  the  essence  of  comradeship,  and  com- 
radeship is  the  soul  of  love." 

"Well,  I'm  as  much  in  love  with  Charlotte  as  any  nor- 
mally sane  man  can  be  in  love,"  said  Pryor,  quizzically. 
"But  on  the  points  you  mention,  7  don't  hit  it  off  with  her, 
either.  Her  Brahms  and  your  Strauss  are  equally  Greek 
to  me,  and  I'd  give  up  their  collective  compositions  in  a 
jiffy  for  half  an  hour  of  the  "Mikado"  or  the  "Gondoliers." 

He  supposed  he'd  have  to  work  backwards  and  find  out 
what  the  essence  of  comradeship  consisted  in.  He  sincerely 
trusted  that  it  was  not  bound  up,  in  his  case,  with  Char- 
lotte's money.  As  it  was,  she  was  terribly  suspicious  on 
that  score.  She  was  quite  unshakable  in  the  conviction 
that  Robert  was  the  only  man  she  had  ever  known  who 
was  not  a  fortune  hunter. 

"You  see  the  devilish  harm  you've  done,"  said  Pryor,  in 
conclusion,  "with  your  reputation  for  disinterestedness." 

"Quite  an  undeserved  one,  too,"  replied  Robert,  smiling. 
"Like  most  reputations  it  was  founded  on  my  deficiencies 
and  not  on  my  accomplishments.  If  I  had  known  as  much 
about  money  two  years  ago  as  I  do  now,  Charlotte  might 
have  a  very  different  opinion  of  my  disinterested  motives, 
as  well  as  of  me." 

He  assured  Pryor  that  he  would  do  his  level  best  to  free 
Charlotte  from  her  delusion.  In  return,  Pryor  was  to 
keep  secret  the  fact  of  Robert's  accession  to  a  fortune. 

"I'd  like  to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  being  a  poor  man  with 
plenty  of  money  in  my  pocket,"  he  said. 

Nobody  was  to  be  told  and,  in  particular,  the  news  was 
to  be  kept  from  Janet.  He  didn't  expect  to  indulge  this 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  457 

rather  childish  whim  for  more  than  a  few  days.  All  New 
York  would  be  talking  about  his  good  luck  by  that  time,  no 
doubt. 

"My  dear  fellow!  A  paltry  two  millions?"  said  Pryor 
with  a  short  laugh.  "A  mere  pebble  on  the  beach.  Why, 
the  reigning  plutocrats  here  hand  out  millions  to  charity 
as  I'd  give  pennies  to  a  beggar." 

They  settled  their  bill. 

On  their  way  out,  Robert  said: 

"Now  tell  me  how  you  caught  that  blackguard  Burley 
smuggling  diamonds  for  the  Fontaines." 

"Who  told  you  I  caught  them?  In  the  strict  etiquette 
of  the  Secret  Service,  the  names  of  the  agents  in  specific 
cases  are  never  made  public." 

"Oh,  the  information  just  drifted  my  way,"  said  Robert, 
bantering  him.  "Even  without  it,  though,  I  should  have 
put  two  and  two  together.  Nobody  admires  the  richness  and 
variety  of  your  knowledge  more  than  I  do,  Pryor.  Yet  I'm 
bound  to  say  that  your  disguises  seem  puerile  to  me. 
Among  the  Outlaws,  although  we  didn't  guess  the  Secret 
Service,  we  spotted  you  as  a  Pinkerton,  or  something  of  that 
sort,  almost  from  the  first." 

"Precisely  what  I  wanted  you  to  do,  my  friend.  My 
game  was  to  spread  the  truth  broadcast.  People  simply 
will  not  believe  the  truth.  Ask  any  detective  worth  his 
salt  and  he'll  tell  you  that  being  himself  is  the  best  of  all 
possible  disguises,  one  that  saves  no  end  of  trouble  in 
'make-up'  and  character  acting.  It  causes  every  suspect  to 
feel  that  he  and  the  sleuth  are  in  each  other's  confidence, 
as  it  were.  And  this  puts  people  so  much  at  their  ease  that 
they  positively  can't  help  giving  themselves  away." 


458  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"So  that's  how  you  double  crossed  Hutchins  Burley?" 

"It's  a  long,  amusing  story,  Lloyd.  I'll  keep  the  details 
for  another  day.  The  poor  wretch  is  doing  five  years  in  a 
Federal  prison.  Mr.  Rene  Fontaine,  for  whom  he  was  a 
mere  tool,  paid  a  fine  of  three  million  dollars  (not  your 
beggarly  two  million!)  without  turning  a  hair,  and  then 
decamped  to  England,  where  he  lives  in  a  regal  villa  some- 
where in  Essex. —  Lord,  it's  nearly  three!  I  must  make  a 
move.  Where  are  you  bound  for?" 

"Home,  now.     California,  the  day  after  tomorrow." 

"California!" 

Robert  explained  that  all  his  uncle's  realty  holdings  were 
on  the  Pacific  Coast.  His  mother,  too,  was  there.  What 
with  one  thing  and  another,  his  presence  out  West  was 
imperative. 

"I  shall  return  in  two  months  for  a  quest  of  quite  another 
sort,"  he  added,  significantly. 

"Walk  a  few  blocks  towards  the  Subway  with  me,"  said 
Pryor,  "and  I'll  show  you  one  of  the  high  lights  of  our  low 
life." 

As  they  drew  near  the  Grand  Central  Palace,  the  streets 
grew  thick  with  people.  Traffic  along  Lexington  Avenue 
was  suspended  and  a  cordon  of  New  York's  "finest"  was 
drawn  up  in  front  of  the  Palace,  with  night  sticks  polished 
to  a  turn. 

Robert  and  Mark  Pryor  had  just  reached  the  outskirts 
of  the  crowd,  when  several  imposing  motor  cars  drew  up  in 
front  of  the  exhibition  building. 

"What  on  earth's  the  matter  now?"  said  Robert.  "Has 
our  Anglo-American  Prince  of  Wales  returned?" 

A  very  handsome  young  man  with  two  richly  dressed 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  459 

young  ladies  alighted  from  the  first  car,  whilst  the  moving 
picture  brigade  went  into  immediate  action  and  the  crowds 
thundered  out  cheers. 

"It's  the  first  day  of  the  great  Allied  Armies'  Bazaar," 
said  Pryor.  "The  Duchess  of  Keswick  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Claude  Fontaine  are  to  open  the  affair  at  three  o'clock. 
There  they  go  now." 

"What  a  match  for  him!"  murmured  Robert,  setting  eyes 
for  the  first  time  on  Majorie  Armstrong's  proud  beauty. 

"More  than  a  match,"  said  Pryor,  softly. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY 
I 

"You  don't  love  me,  Robert  I" 

"It's  false,"  he  said,  retreating.  "I  do  love  you.  I've 
loved  you  madly  ever  since  you  fled  to  Paris." 

"Then  why  do  you  run  away?  I  don't  want  you  to  marry 
me.  You're  too  poor!  But  you  might  at  least  kiss  me. 
Come  back,  Robert,  please  come  back!" 

Following  him,  she  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
clasped  him  tight. 

"Let  me  go,  Janet.  I  won't  marry  you.  I  won't!  I'll 
never,  never,  NEVER  marry  a  woman  who  has  had  a  free 
lover  1" 

Still  he  receded,  and  ever  so  gently  tried  to  unclasp  her 
hands. 

"You  needn't  marry  me,  Robert.  Only  treat  me  just  as 
you'd  treat  a  man.  Don't  you  remember  that  you  promised 
you  would?  You  promised  on  the  pier  in  Kips  Bay,  when 
your  heart  was  a  free  and  a  fetterless  thing." 

She  concentrated  all  her  magic  upon  him,  upon  his  pale 
thoughtful  face  and  discerning  hazel-brown  eyes.  But  look ! 
The  eyes  were  not  hazel-brown — they  were  a  flashing  blue! 
And  these  were  not  the  mobile  sensitive  features  of  Robert, 
but  the  bold  virile  features  (somewhat  distorted  by  angry 
passion)  of  Claude. 
•  "What!"  he  cried.  "Marry  you  here — here  in  Brussels 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  461 

— after  all  I've  suffered  on  your  account?  Serpent!  Shall 
I  never  escape  your  sting?" 

Hovering  somewhere  in  the  background,  a  thin-edged 
female  with  horn-rimmed  spectacles  took  a  malignant  joy 
in  fanning  the  flames  of  his  rage. 

Claude  wrenched  both  her  hands  loose  and  flung  them  off, 
the  violence  of  the  action  sending  her  prone  to  the  floor. 

II 

Janet  sat  up  in  bed  and  shook  back  the  tangles  of  her 
nut-brown  hair. 

What  a  horrible  nightmare! 

All  on  account  of  the  rumpus  started  last  night  by  the 
thin-edged  female  with  the  horn-rimmed  spectacles. 

Not  in  Brussels,  but  in  New  York.  Not  in  the  Grand 
Hotel,  Boulevard  Anspach,  but  in  the  Susan  B.  Anthony 
House,  Park  Avenue,  Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome's  new  apart- 
ment house  for  self-supporting  professional  women  with 
children. 

Well,  this  particular  rumpus  had  been  settled,  and  the 
attack  of  officious  Pharisaism  upon  Janet's  reputation  had 
received  a  black  eye.  Janet  wondered  whether  the  blow 
was  to  be  recorded  as  a  knockout  or  merely  as  the  end  of 
the  first  round. 

Time  would  show.  Meanwhile,  she  dressed  and  break- 
fasted; then,  with  all  the  gravity  of  her  twenty-seven  years, 
she  began  to  discharge  the  responsible  duties  of  manager 
of  the  House. 

But  the  memory  of  the  nightmare  would  not  down.  Not 
even  the  excitement  she  still  felt  in  making  the  rounds  of 


462  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

her  three  departments  sufficed  to  dispel  it.  In  the  children's 
section,  she  applauded  the  new  floor  games  which  the  kin- 
dergartner  had  invented  for  her  wards;  she  became  a  ready 
listener  to  the  woes  of  the  matron  in  charge  of  the  house- 
hold division;  on  her  way  through  the  cuisine,  she  devoted 
her  faculties  to  the  task  of  adjudicating  the  claims  of  the 
cook  against  the  dietitian  in  command.  And  she  sought  dis- 
traction in  the  stupendous  thought  that  these  three  great  de- 
partments of  the  Susan  B.  Anthony  House  were  coordinated 
in  the  person  of  Miss  J.  Barr,  the  business  manager  and 
personal  representative  of  Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome. 

Yet,  although  these  occupations  drove  away  the  haunt- 
ing nightmare  for  minutes  at  a  time,  they  were  impotent  to 
banish  it  permanently. 

The  chief  trouble  was,  of  course,  that  her  nerves  were 
still  shaken  by  the  emotional  explosion  in  which  the  whole 
House  had  been  involved  the  day  before.  The  explosion 
was  the  cause  of  the  nightmare.  And  the  nightmare  itself, 
its  several  metamorphoses  and  all,  had  marched  in  such  a 
logical,  well  arranged  order,  that  she  was  greatly  tempted  to 
tell  it  to  Lydia  Dyson,  the  novelist,  who  was  a  crank  on 
the  subject  of  Freud  and  dreams. 

Lydia,  to  be  sure,  would  pronounce  it  a  contemptible 
dream,  lamentably  short  of  knives,  pitchforks,  corks, 
bottles  and  other  shining  symbolic  materials.  Contempt- 
ible or  not,  she  would  none  the  less  insist  that  it  must  be 
submitted  to  a  psychanalyst. 

Yes,  Lydia  Dyson  would  torment  her  to  be  psychana- 
lyzed.  With  a  smile  she  recalled  the  novelist's  visit  to  the 
Susan  B.  Anthony  House  a  week  ago.  Lydia,  in  search  of 
tnaterial  for  her  new  novel,  The  Soul  Pirates  (expression 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  463 

derived  from  Cornelia  Covert),  had  set  the  members  of  the 
house  to  narrating  their  worst  dreams.  Then  she  had 
beguiled  more  than  half  of  them  into  having  themselves 
psychoanalyzed  by  Aristide  Cambeau,  an  amazingly  bril- 
liant speaker  whose  lectures  (at  the  Ritz — five  dollars  a 
ticket!)  were  the  latest  social  rage,  and  whose  clinic  was 
daily  besieged  by  a  long  queue  of  fashionable  ladies  impa- 
tient to  have  their  souls  laid  bare. 

Janet  believed  she  could  interpret  her  dream  fully  as 
well  as  the  fascinating  Mr.  Cambeau. 

Her  attempt  to  do  so  led  her  to  a  review  of  her  own 
recent  history. 

Seven  weeks  ago  she  had  returned  with  Mrs.  R.  H.  L. 
Jerome  to  the  United  States.  Mrs.  Jerome  had  resumed 
training  her  as  soon  as  the  Statue  of  Liberty  was  sighted. 
Thus,  the  good  lady  reminded  her  that  they  had  come  from 
England  (where  plenty  of  explosive  insurrectionary  mate- 
rial was  lying  around)  to  their  own  land  with  its  "tendency 
to  normalcy"  as  a  noted  politician  expressed  it.  That  is, 
they  had  come  back  to  the  America  of  the  women's  vote, 
the  high  cost  of  living,  the  housing  shortage,  the  unemploy- 
ment menace,  the  deportation  of  radicals  and  Japanese,  the 
reception  of  hoards  of  unhealthy  South-European  immi- 
grants, the  ouija  board,  the  stock  market  slump  and  jazz. 
The  same  old  America!  It  was  reading  "Main  Street"  just 
then;  and  Mrs.  Jerome  opined  that  all  America  was  reading 
the  book,  not  because  it  gave  a  memorable  picture  of  the 
soul  of  a  nation  in  all  its  drab,  desolating  mediocrity,  but 
because  it  gratified  the  furious  national  craving  to  be  paid 
attention  to  and  talked  about,  it  mattered  nothing  whether 
in  terms  of  praise,  disparagement  or  abuse. 


464  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

Mrs.  Jerome's  gloomy  view  rolled  off  Janet  like  water 
off  a  duck's  back.  She  had  youth,  enthusiasm,  vigor;  there 
was  a  great  civilizing  work  to  be  done.  And  though,  as 
Mark  Pryor  took  pains  to  assure  her,  it  might  take  a 
thousand  years  to  do  it,  she  threw  herself  into  it  heart  and 
soul,  just  as  if  the  goal  were  attainable  next  year. 

Two  weeks  after  their  arrival  in  New  York,  the  Susan  B. 
Anthony  House  had  been  opened,  undemonstratively  but 
successfully.  Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome,  an  omnipresent  deity 
at  first,  relinquished  the  reins  of  government  gradually;  all 
the  reins  save  one,  for  it  was  well  understood  that  she  was 
to  be  the  power  behind  the  scenes.  Within  a  week,  every 
suite  in  the  house  was  occupied  and  hundreds  of  applicants 
were  turned  away.  The  rents,  though  far  from  low,  were 
not  unreasonable;  and,  as  special  provision  had  been  made 
for  the  care  of  children,  and  competent  experts  placed  in 
control  of  each  department  ("quality  not  quantity"  was  the 
specific  motto  throughout),  the  house  was  a  godsend  for 
precisely  the  ones  it  was  designed  to  serve,  that  is,  for  self- 
supporting  professional  women  with  one  or  two  children. 

For  a  time,  things  had  gone  swimmingly.  Almost  too 
swimmingly.  As  the  news  spread,  social  workers  and  social 
science  students  began  to  pay  the  place  a  visit.  Before 
long  the  unofficial  busybodies  followed  and,  with  the  kind- 
liest intentions  in  the  world,  did  their  level  best  to  disor- 
ganize the  machinery  of  the  house  and  subvert  the  disci- 
pline. 

And  the  reporters  took  up  the  scent!  All  the  magazine 
sections  of  the  Sunday  newspapers  had  articles  describing 
Mrs.  Jerome's  "latest  hobby."  Interviews  with  Mrs. 
Jerome — some  real,  some  alleged — appeared  in  increasing 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  465 

numbers  and  with  increasingly  pungent  specimens  of  this 
lady's  sprightly  wit.  Writers  of  special  features  in  the 
evening  sheets  praised  or  deplored  the  "communal  upbring- 
ing" of  the  children.  The  photogravure  supplements  took 
up  the  sport  and  favored  their  readers  with  pictures  of 
every  conceivable  corner  of  the  house,  and  also  with  tab- 
leaux in  which  the  children,  looking  remarkably  happy  and 
well  dressed,  were  grouped  about  three  adults  (from  left  to 
right) :  the  Duchess  of  Keswick,  Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome  and 
Miss  J.  Barr. 

Finally,  the  Infamous  Players-Smartcraft  Company 
offered  a  fabulous  sum  for  the  use  of  the  Susan  B.  Anthony 
House  as  the  scene  of  an  "action"  (with  adagio  "close- 
ups"),  which  it  insisted  on  calling  (doubtless  in  irony)  a 
"moving"  picture. 

But  the  marvel  of  marvels  was  that,  throughout  this 
period  of  unbought,  unsought  advertising,  nobody  breathed 
the  suspicion  that  Miss  J.  Barr,  the  calm,  collected  young 
manageress  in  the  neat  blouse  and  trim  skirt,  might  be  the 
notorious  Janet  Barr  who  had  eloped  two  years  before  with 
Claude  Fontaine  1 

Then,  one  fine  day,  as  she  was  leaving  the  Broadway 
side  of  Wanamaker's,  a  man  had  leapt  out  of  a  magnificent 
limousine  drawn  up  at  the  curb,  and  had  seized  her  hands. 

It  was  Claude  himself!  Handsome  and  imposing  as  ever, 
with  perhaps  a  dash  less  of  self-confidence. 

He  had  implored  her  for  a  meeting  later  in  the  day.  No, 
no,  he  wouldn't  make  love  to  her,  he  solemnly  swore  he 
wouldn't!  He  wanted  to  get  a  load  off  his  conscience.  His 
wife?  Oh,  he  got  along  well  enough  with  Marjorie,  only- 
Well,  surely  Janet  knew  why  he  had  married  her?  There 


466  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

had  simply  been  no  alternative!  If  Colonel  Armstrong 
hadn't  stood  back  of  Fontaine  and  Company  at  the  time  of 
the  smuggling  exposure,  the  firm  would  have  gone  to  smash. 
And  so  on — 

Janet  peremptorily  refused  to  meet  him.  There  was  no 
sense  in  a  meeting,  she  urged.  He  was  importunate.  "What 
about  my  House?"  said  she.  "What  about  my  state  of 
mind?"  said  he.  She  had  tried  hard  to  be  firm. 

"Come  not  between  the  lion  and  his  wrath  or  the  tigress 
and  her  work,"  she  said,  torn  this  way  and  that  between  the 
comedy  and  the  tragedy  of  the  situation. 

To  get  rid  of  him,  she  had  at  length  made  an  appoint- 
ment for  the  afternoon. 

The  appointment  was  never  kept! 

The  sequel  proved  that  her  encounter  with  Claude  had 
been  observed.  That  night  the  bloodhounds  of  scandal 
were  unleashed  in  the  Susan  Anthony  House.  The  ring- 
leader was  the  thin-edged  woman  with  the  horn-rimmed 
spectacles. 

This  precious  female  was  the  mother  of  a  whining  little 
boy  whose  father  was  authenticated  by  due  process  of  law. 
The  law  had  not  sufficed,  however,  to  keep  the  gentleman 
faithful  for  long  to  the  nuptial  vows.  After  his  disappear- 
ance from  New  Yorkj  his  wife  was  left  to  support  herself 
and  to  wreak  vengeance  where  vengeance  was  not  due. 

The  first  that  Janet  knew  about  the  coming  storm  was 
when  the  dietitian  took  her  aside  and  told  her  that  the  house 
had  been  divided  into  two  camps:  for  and  against  Janet; 
or,  as  the  anti-Janet  crowd  put  it:  for  and  against  Morality. 

Two  days  before  the  nightmare,  things  had  come  to  a 
head.  In  the  absence  of  the  manager,  the  anti-Janet  faction 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  467 

had  assembled  under  the  chairmanship  of  the  thin-edged 
agitator. 

This  lady  had  opened  the  meeting  with  the  bitter  an- 
nouncement that  those  present  were  liberal  and  fairminded, 
but  that  they  had  their  children  to  think  of.  Their  darling 
children!  Mothers,  married  mothers,  mind  you  (and  she, 
for  her  part,  had  consented  to  join  the  Susan  B.  Anthony 
House  only  on  the  confident  assumption  that  all  the 
mothers  were  as  regularly  married  as  herself) — mothers, 
as  such,  could  afford  to  take  no  chances!  Unhappily,  she 
was  persuaded  that  in  the  other  camp  there  were  ladies  who 
had  more  than  one  good  reason  for  standing  by  the  man- 
ager. She  surmised  that  some  of  these  ladies  were  un- 
married mothers!  Scarcely  mothers  at  all  (if  morals 
counted  for  anything),  and  certainly  no  better  than  they 
should  be. 

After  much  nursing  of  self-righteousness,  suitable  resolu- 
tions were  moved,  and  a  deputation  was  appointed  to 
present  the  facts  to  Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome;  also  to  demand 
the  discharge  of  Janet  and  the  vindication  of  American 
morality. 

The  great  impeachment  had  occurred  last  night.  Mrs. 
Jerome  had  motored  into  town,  and  both  factions  had 
turned  out  for  the  occasion  in  the  large  reception  room  on 
the  ground  floor.  Mrs.  Jerome  had  refused  to  start  the 
proceedings  until  Janet  was  seated  at  her  right  hand.  This 
settled,  the  thin-edged  spokesman  had  made  the  formal 
charges. 

Then  the  fun  had  begun  — 

At  this  point,  a  telephone  bell  jangled  across  Janet's 
reflections. 


468  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Who  is  it?"  she  asked  the  switchboard  girl. 

"Mr.  Piyor." 

"Let  him  come  up,"  said  Janet  eagerly. 

IH 

As  usual,  Mark  Pryor's  spare  form  was  dressed  from 
head  to  foot  in  materials  of  one  color.  But  even  Janet 
noticed  that,  for  once,  the  inevitable  stand-up  collar,  with  its 
two  prongs  tilting  its  wearer's  chin  upwards,  had  been  re- 
placed by  a  low-lying  collar  of  creamiest  silk. 

"Circles  under  the  eyes!"  he  began  severely.  "What's 
wrong?" 

"Nightmares,  witches,  broomsticks,"  she  replied,  laugh- 
ing. 

"Out  with  itl"  he  commanded. 

In  her  calm,  clear  tones  she  gave  him  a  graphic  account 
of  the  unpleasantness  of  the  last  few  days,  from  its  incep- 
tion in  her  chance  encounter  with  Claude  Fontaine  down 
to  the  demand  made  upon  Mrs.  Jerome  for  her  dismissal. 

"And  how  did  little  Apple  Dumpling  meet  this  demand?" 
inquired  Pryor. 

"Like  a  trump!  Said  she'd  stand  by  me  to  the  limit; 
also  that  the  Susan  B.  Anthony  House,  being  designed  for 
busy  people  and  not  for  busybodies,  Mrs.  Farrar  (the  one 
with  the  horn-rimmed  spectacles)  would  have  to  vacate  at 
the  end  of  the  week.  Further  that,  in  the  future,  it  is  to  be 
a  fixed  rule  of  the  house  that  any  mother,  married  or  un- 
married, may  become  a  tenant,  and  no  questions  asked, 
other  than  those  needed  to  satisfy  Mrs.  Jerome  or  her  rep- 
resentative that  the  applicant  is  both  self-supporting  and 
self-respecting — " 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  469 

"Bravo!" 

"And,  furthermore,  she  then  and  there  dictated  a  letter 
to  be  sent  to  the  liberal  weeklies  in  New  York,  informing 
their  readers  of  the  adoption  of  this  new  rule." 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Pryor.  "The  next  time  anybody  queries, 
in  the  words  of  the  immortal  William: 

"  'What  king  so  strong 
Can  tie  the  gall  up  in  the  slanderous  tongue?' 

I'll  answer:  No  king;  but  let  me  tip  you  the  name  of  a 
queen — Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome,  the  magnificent.  She  can 
turn  the  trick." 

"Yes,  she's  a  perfect  darling.  Do  you  know,  I  didn't 
mind  the  backbiting  of  those  silly  women  a  bit.  But  Mrs. 
Jerome's  unhesitating  support  made  me  want  to  cry." 

She  added  that  in  a  private  conversation  with  the  dear 
lady  she  had  urged  her  own  resignation  as  a  matter  of 
practical  wisdom.  Wasn't  the  cause  greater  than  the  indi- 
vidual? — "Rubbish!"  Mrs.  Jerome  had  replied  with  a  con- 
siderable show  of  heat.  No  cause  was  worth  the  cowardly 
abandonment  of  a  comrade!  For  two  thousand  years  men 
had  prated  of  the  holy  duties  of  friend  to  friend,  and  had 
committed  one  crime  against  friendship  after  another.  And 
when  these  crimes  were  committed,  what  did  they  do?  They 
folded  their  hands,  raised  pious  eyes  to  heaven,  and  sang 
(through  their  noses),  "Alas  for  the  rarity  of  Christian 
charity!"  etc.  Well,  women  would  show  them  that  the 
time  to  be  loyal  was  not  when  the  pack  curried  favor  with 
your  friend  but  when  it  turned  to  rend  him. 

"What  do  you  mean  to  do  now?"  asked  Pryor. 

"I  shall  stick  it  out.    After  all,  I'm  not  looking  for  social 


470  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

or  official  favors.    All  I  ask  is  to  be  allowed  to  do  the  best 
work  of  which  I'm  capable.   Surely,  I  have  that  right." 

"So  you  think,"  said  Pryor  drily.  "But  bear  in  mind 
that  for  every  b  ona  fide  worker  in  New  York,  there  are  nine 
idlers  or  time  wasters,  nine  breeders  of  noise,  disorder  and 
disease.  And  don't  forget  that  the  chief  objection  to  the 
idler  is  not  that  he  neglects  his  own  work,  but  that  he 
insists  on  interrupting  or  damaging  yours.  The  doer  is  the 
waster's  sworn  enemy  to  all  eternity.  And  the  waster 
knows  it!  Therefore,  he  spies  out  your  vulnerable  spot: 
social,  economic,  psychic,  whatever  it  be;  and  the  first 
moment  he  catches  you  off  guard,  he  sends  his  poisoned 
arrow  straight  to  your  Achilles'  heel." 

"I  suppose  I  must  take  my  chance  of  that.  What  else 
can  I  do?" 

"You  might  imitate  me." 

"Imitate  you!     What  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  get  married!  I'm  going  to  marry  Charlotte 
Beecher." 

"But  I  thought  that  Charlotte—" 

"Yes,  she's  very  fond  of  Robert  Lloyd.  And  I'm  only  her 
second  string.  But  bless  your  wayward  curls,  we're  all  sec- 
ond strings  on  somebody's  violin!  What's  the  odds  — 
especially  after  the  first  string  has  snapped?  I've  been 
madly  in  love  myself,  twice  before.  Once,  down  south  in 
Colon,  with  a  dusky  Isthmian  beauty.  The  second  time, 
with  you." 

"Don't  be  silly,  Mark,  or  I  shall  stop  envying  Charlotte 
her  extraordinary  good  luck." 

"Hers  and  mine!  Charlotte  was  looking  for  a  husband 
with  enough  brains  to  manage  a  fortune,  and  yet  with  heart 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  471 

enough  not  to  love  her  for  her  fortune  alone.  I  was  look- 
ing for  a  wife  with  heart  enough  to  lay  her  fortune  at  my 
feet,  and  yet  with  enough  brains  to  permit  me  to  enjoy  her 
society.  Are  we  well  matched  or  not?" 

"  'Let  me  not  to  the  marriage  of  true  minds  admit  impedi- 
ment,' "  quoted  Janet,  laughing. 

"Now  you're  talking  sense  as  well  as  poetry,  dear  girl." 

"I  didn't  say  I'd  follow  your  example,  though." 

"All  in  good  time!  It's  human  nature  for  young  blood  to 
rebel  against  wedlock — and  to  come  around  to  it  in  the  long 
run.  Marriage,  as  Lydia  Dyson  says,  is  the  easiest  way!" 

"Yes,  for  Lydia,  who  changes  her  lover  once  a  season, 
while  her  husband  stays  at  home  and  keeps  the  household 
in  smooth  running  order.  But  my  needs  don't  run  in 
Lydia's  line." 

Pryor  admitted  this.  But  he  pointed  out  that  marriage 
was  a  human  institution.  There  it  was.  for  every  one  of  us 
to  reckon  with.  Either  you  made  use  of  it,  or  it  made  use 
of  you.  Sensible  people  adopted  the  former  alternative. 

"Why,  look  at  me!"  he  said,  waxing  strangely  eloquent. 
"I've  knocked  about  the  world  a  good  bit  in  the  last 
twenty  years.  A  born  adventurer  if  ever  there  was  one.  Do 
you  see  me  settling  down  to  matrimony  like  any  spirit- 
broken  married  man  in  the  pinchbeck  salaried  class?  No, 
by  Jupiter!  I've  waited  for  the  right  conditions  to  come 
to  pass  so  that  I  could  take  up  marriage  as  one  more  great 
adventure." 

"Your  last  one,  Mark!"  said  Janet,  bantering  him. 

More  seriously,  she  asked  him  whether  all  his  other  ad- 
ventures had  been  in  the  Secret  Service. 

"Loid  no!   I've  taken  a  shot  at  all  sorts  of  jobs  and  been 


472  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

all  sorts  of  things  from  a  West  Point  cadet  to  a  buccaneer 
in  the  South  Seas." 

This  quiet,  self-contained  man,  spare  of  frame  but 
tough  as  a  hickory  stick,  had  he  really  been  a  gorgeous  sea- 
rover?  Looking  into  his  humorously  inquisitive  gray  eyes, 
Janet  could  not  doubt  his  words.  And,  like  Desdemona 
entranced  by  Othello,  she  listened  whilst  he  dipped  into  a 
store  of  reminiscences  and,  hi  his  own  inimitably  laconic 
style,  gave  her  an  outline  of  his  picturesque  career. 

Pryor  as  a  West  Point  cadet,  as  a  lieutenant  in  the 
Engineer  Corps,  in  service  against  the  Moros  in  the  Philip- 
pines, on  the  sanitary  staff  in  the  thick  of  the  Panama 
Canal  construction,  again  as  a  civilian  on  a  dare-devil 
voyage  to  Tahiti — these  pictures  took  the  romantic  side  of 
Janet  by  storm.  She  made  him  tell  the  Tahitian  story  most 
minutely,  and  hung  on  his  lips  with  bated  breath  as  he 
recounted  the  capture  of  his  tiny  steamer  by  real  pirates 
who  gave  him  a  Hobson's  choice  of  joining  them  in  their 
marauding  trips  near  the  Society  Islands,  or  of  walking  the 
plank. 

"But  I  never  gave  full  satisfaction  anywhere,"  he  con- 
cluded ruefully.  "Secrets  that  I  had  better  not  have  known 
were  incessantly  coming  my  way  and  causing  me  no  end 
of  trouble.  Once,  when  we  unexpectedly  sighted  a  Dutch 
merchantman  laden  with  coffee  and  spices,  I  ran  up  the 
red  flag  instead  of  the  black!  My  shipmates  swore  that  I 
did  it  on  purpose  and  assured  me  that,  as  a  pirate,  I  was  a 
failure.  It  was  true.  I  was  a  failure!  Almost  a  dead 
failure,  in  fact,  for  they  left  me  on  what  they  thought  was 
a  desert  island." 

When  he  got  back  to  the  United  States,  the  Great  War 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  473 

had  begun,  but  the  officials  in  Washington  were  extremely 
slow  to  utilize  his  services.  His  record  was  against  him. 
He  was  one  of  those  men  with  whom  two  and  two  didn't 
inevitably  make  four,  but  sometimes  footed  up  to  a  sum 
that  included  human  as  well  as  mathematical  factors.  For 
an  army  man,  this  was  a  fatal  defect. 

Impatient  to  be  of  use,  he  eventually  joined  the  Secret 
Service. 

"Why?"  asked  Janet. 

"Nothing  else  was  open  to  me,"  he  replied,  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  roving  eyes.  "When  a  man  is  a  pronounced 
failure,  there  are  only  three  professions  that  will  take  him 
into  their  ranks:  those  of  detective,  writer  and  teacher.  I 
chose  the  first  as  the  least  degrading  of  the  three.  Also  be- 
cause it  gave  me  a  chance  to  use  my  gift  as  a  telepath,  an 
elemental  telepath." 

"You  can't  pretend  that  you  haven't  made  good  at  that!" 

"Oh,  I've  done  so-so." 

"So-so! "  cried  Janet  indignantly.  "Look  how  you  caught 
Hutchins  Burley  red-handed!" 

"True  enough.  I'm  bound  to  confess,  however,  that  I 
went  to  the  pier  to  arrest  him  for  treason.  When  his  boxes 
of  Oriental  books  were  opened,  it  was  the  smuggled  dia- 
monds that  we  found  and  not  (as  I  had  predicted)  the 
evidence  of  his  sale  of  United  States  military  secrets  to  the 
Japanese.  Later  on,  we  got  that  evidence  too;  but  that 
was  Smilo's  doing  more  than  mine.  Ah,  wait  till  you  hear 
Robert's  opinion  of  my  sleuthing  skill." 

"Oh,  Robert!"  she  said,  with  the  faintest  quiver  of  her 
lip.  "He  hasn't  been  near  me.  I'm  not  even  sure  that  he's 
in  America." 


474  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Well,  he  is!  And  I  happen  to  know  that  urgent  business 
is  keeping  him  out  of  New  York." 

"What  can  it  be?" 

"It's  a  peculiar  business.  In  a  sense,  it's  the  reverse  of 
what  I  was  engaged  upon.  I  was  in  pursuit  of  rogues; 
but  rogues  are  in  pursuit  of  him." 

"I  must  say,  you're  as  enigmatic  as  ever." 

"Only  till  tomorrow,  Janet.  I  pledge  my  word  to  have 
everything  explained  to  your  satisfaction  if  you'll  come 
tomorrow  to  Charlotte's  studio  in  Washington  Mews.  The 
party  begins  at  four." 

"The  party!" 

"Precisely.  An  engagement  party  for  Charlotte;  a  sur- 
prise party  for  you." 

Saying  which,  and  protesting  that  he  had  talked  her 
deaf,  dumb  and  blind,  and  affirming  that  he  had  never  felt 
so  horribly  out  of  character  in  his  life,  Mark  Pryor  gravely 
took  his  leave. 

IV 

In  fulfillment  of  her  promise,  Janet  went  the  following 
afternoon  to  the  converted  stable  in  Washington  Mews 
where  Charlotte  Beecher  cultivated  sculpture  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  aristocratic  Bohemianism.  It  was  the  same  studio 
in  which,  of  old,  Cornelia  Covert  had  luxuriated  whenever 
the  routine  of  Outlawry  in  Kips  Bay  got  on  her  nerves. 

Spring  and  hope  in  a  young  woman's  breast  usually  add 
love  to  their  number.  In  Janet's  case  they  added  thoughts 
of  Robert.  All  morning  she  had  been  plagued  with  a  feel- 
ing, amounting  to  a  conviction,  that  he  would  be  at  Char- 
lotte's party.  But  when  she  reached  the  Mews,  she  found 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  475 

that  Pryor  and  Lydia  Dyson  were  the  only  other  guests  at 
a  gathering  which  bade  fair  to  be  intimate  and  exclusive. 

For  a  minute  or  two  her  spirits  were  considerably  dashed. 
She  waited  for  Pryor's  advertised  surprise  to  eventuate;  but 
she  waited  in  the  dark,  nobody  offering  so  much  as  a  ray 
of  enlightenment. 

While  Lydia  Dyson  stretched  herself  supine  upon  the 
magnificent  tiger  rug  before  the  blazing  fire,  Pryor  fetched 
wineglasses  and  poured  out  champagne. 

"Here's  to  those  about  to  wed!"  cried  Lydia,  raising  her 
glass,  and  then  quoting: 

"  'Farewell,  happy  fields  where  Joy  forever  dwells, 
Hail  Horrors!'" 

"You  might  give  us  a  more  cheerful  toast,  old  girl," 
protested  Charlotte. 

"An  occasion  like  this  conduces  to  high  philosophy  rather 
than  to  vulgar  good  cheer,"  retorted  Lydia,  whose  Egyp- 
tian beauty — ebony  hair  against  a  pale  olive  skin — had 
never  been  more  stunning.  "However,  since  you  wish  it, 
I'll  take  another  shot:  'Here's  to  continued  failure  for  all 
of  us!'" 

"Lydia,  you  are  a  merry  soul  today,"  exclaimed  Janet, 
amidst  the  general  laughter. 

"And  why  not?"  inquired  Lydia,  with  a  provoking  drawl. 
"Why  not?  When  I  see  my  last  blood  curdler  running  well 
into  the  two  hundred  thousands  1" 

"Lydia  is  right,"  said  Pryor.  "In  the  present  state  of 
civilization,  all  the  best  people  are  failures,  glorious 
failures." 


476  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

He  contrasted  the  fortunes  of  Lydia's  pornographic 
romances  with  the  fate  of  her  one  serious  experiment  in 
fiction.  The  romances  sold  like  hot  cakes.  But  the  serious 
work,  a  short  novel  in  which,  with  pitiless  Hogarthian 
realism,  she  had  developed  an  episode  between  a  brother 
and  a  sister,  had  been  refused  by  her  publisher  on  the 
ground  that  "it  was  too  terrible!"  Then  there  was  his  own 
case!  Had  he  not  failed  as  a  detective  because  too  much 
secret  information  was  always  breezing  his  way? 

"Don't  forget  our  young  feminist  over  there,"  cried 
Lydia,  indicating  Janet.  "Don't  forget  her,  or  her  heroic 
gesture  against  wedlock!" 

"A  bark  is  not  as  good  as  a  bite,"  retorted  Janet.  "But 
isn't  it  better  than  a  tame  crawl  into  the  yoke?" 

By  way  of  reply,  Lydia  half  raised  herself  from  the  tiger 
skin  and,  in  measured  tones,  recited: 

"O  Dewdrop,  thou  hast  fought  the  better  fight  —  in  vain ! 
Some  women  are  born  to  be  wedlocked,  some  achieve  wed- 
lock, and  some  have  wedlock  thrust  upon  them.  Janet 
belongs  to  the  first  group,  Charlotte  belongs  to  the  second, 
I  belong  to  the  third." 

"You  to  the  thirdl"  cried  Charlotte.  "How  do  you  make 
that  out?  From  all  I  see,  though  Charley  Morrow  is  a  per- 
fect dragon  of  jealousy,  you  cling  to  him  pretty  tightly." 

"I  have  to,  Charlotte!  I  have  to  keep  him  in  counte- 
nance (and  in  pocket  money,  too!),  because  I'm  afflicted 
with  what  the  doctors  call  'a  floating  stomach.'  Now, 
Charley  is  not  only  the  best  housekeeper  in  New  York,  he's 
the  best  cook,  too.  There's  simply  nobody  else  whom  I  can 
depend  on  not  to  sneak  lard  instead  of  butter  into  my 
bread — " 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  477 

"Or  to  mix  cottonseed  oil  instead  of  olive  oil  with  your 
salads?"  thrust  in  Pryor. 

"Precisely.  Sometimes,  when  I  eat  at  home  I  say:  How 
can  I  stand  Charley  another  twenty-four  hours?  Next  day 
I  eat  at  a  restaurant,  and  say:  I  can  stand  Charley  forever!" 

They  all  laughed,  and  Lydia  buried  herself  in  the  rug 
again. 

"All  the  same,"  she  went  on  meditatively,  "I've  never 
really  got  used  to  marriage.  It's  a  well  of  never-ending  sur- 
prises." 

"What  about  my  surprise?"  asked  Janet,  for  the  fourth 
time. 

The  bell  rang  and  Charlotte  went  to  the  door  a  few  feet 
away. 

"Here  it  comes!"  announced  Pryor,  as  a  man  entered. 

"Janet!" 

"Robert!" 

Greetings  all  round  cut  their  glances  short. 


Janet  was  struck  with  the  fact  that  he  had  never  looked 
better.  Robert,  as  dynamic  as  a  battery  giving  out  blue 
sparks,  was  familiar  enough  to  her.  But  Robert,  with  a 
deepening  pink  spreading  over  his  pale  cheeks,  and  with  a 
suit  that  showed  the  craftsmanship  of  a  fashionable  Fifth 
Avenue  tailor,  was  a  sight  to  make  one  gasp  and  stare.  Nor 
was  this  all.  In  times  past,  she  had  often  conjured  up  a 
picture  of  him  poised  as  on  a  springboard,  preparing  to  leap 
upward  to  join  the  spirits  of  the  air.  But  there  was  noth- 
ing aerial  about  the  way  in  which  his  feet  now  gripped  the 
solid  ground. 


478  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

She  couldn't  get  over  the  change! 

When  he  alluded  briefly  to  a  trip  to  California  from 
which  he  had  just  returned  and  on  which  he  appeared  to 
have  done  some  work  for  the  Confederated  Press,  she  had 
the  sensation  of  not  being  in  a  secret  that  all  the  rest 
shared.  This  was  the  sort  of  discourtesy  that  had  hitherto 
been  taboo  in  Charlotte's  crowd,  and  she  resented  being 
made  a  victim  of  it. 

"Then  the  Confederated  Press  knew  better  than  to  give 
you  your  walking  papers?"  drawled  Lydia. 

"They  knew  nothing,"  replied  Robert.  "I  simply  paid 
them  to  keep  me  on  and  to  let  me  say  exactly  what  I 
pleased." 

This  was  more  mystifying  to  Janet  than  ever. 

Presently,  Mark  Fryer  proposed  a  walk  to  the  Lorillard 
model  tenements  to  inspect  Number  Fifteen,  Cornelia's  old 
flat.  It  turned  out  that  Robert  had  rented  it  and  that 
Donald  Kyrion,  perhaps  the  youngest  and  certainly  the 
most  talented  interior  designer  in  New  York,  had  decorated 
it  for  him  as  a  labor  of  love.  Pyror  pronounced  the  result: 
"Art  that  congealed  artl" 

"Donald  Kyrion?"  said  Lydia.  "If  Robert  got  him  to 
do  anything  for  nothing  he  ought  to  get  the  Nobel  prize 
for  wonder-working." 

"Ahem!"  said  Pryor,  and  again  he  and  Robert  exchanged 
knowing  glances. 

Charlotte  protested  with  all  her  soul  against  being 
dragged  to  Kips  Bay.  Now  that  Robert  could  earn  an 
honest  living,  why  didn't  he  rent  a  lodging  in  a  decent  local- 
ity instead  of  consorting  with  the  Outlaws  who — what  with 
their  talk  of  wrongs,  their  love  of  dirt,  and  their  smell  of 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  479 

tobacco — were  tiresome  enough  to  bore  Mephistopheles  him- 
self. 

"The  Outlaws  parted  company  with  me  long  ago,"  replied 
Robert,  putting  up  a  vigorous  defence.  "It  is  not  they  who 
lure  me  back." 

He  said  that  the  Outlaws  were,  after  all,  not  the  whole 
of  Kips  Bay.  They  were  the  most  picturesque  dement  in 
the  population,  but  they  were  only  a  tiny  fraction  of  the 
total.  True,  they  behaved  in  every  respect  as  though  no 
other  element  besides  their  own  existed.  Wasn't  this, 
however,  merely  a  proof  that  they  were  New  Yorkers  to  the 
manner  born?  It  was,  in  fact,  undeniable  that  there  were 
plenty  of  simple,  self-respecting  toilers  in  Kips  Bay,  plenty 
of  them  right  in  the  very  citadel  of  Outlawry,  the  Loril- 
lard  model  tenements  themselves.  Nay,  candor  com- 
pelled the  admission  that  there  were  even  "rich  but  honest" 
toilers  in  the  Kipsian  district — to  be  specific,  in  the  new 
"art  colonies"  planted  around  Sutton  Terrace  and  Turtle 
Bay  Gardens. 

He  had  found  this  out  after  the  dispersal  of  Cornelia's 
set.  Force  of  circumstances  having  obliged  him  to  look  out 
into  the  Kips  Bay  that  extended  beyond  the  model  flats,  he 
had  learned  how  parochial,  in  their  assumptions  about  the 
district,  the  Outlaws  had  been. 

"The  fact  is,"  he  added,  "I  often  think  it's  a  hankering 
after  the  paths  of  rectitude  and  respectability  that  makes 
me  enjoy  a  Lorillard  flat — for  short  stretches  only,  needless 
to  say.  Anyhow,  the  older  I  get  and  the  more  I  study  the 
flibbertigibbet  Bohemian  in  his  lair  and  the  heavy-footed 
Bourgeois  in  his,  the  more  I'm  struck  with  the  bond  be- 
tween them." 


480  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"The  bond,  Robert!"  exclaimed  Charlotte.  "Call  it  a 
touching  point,  common  ground,  but  don't  call  it  a  bond." 

"Well,  it's  a  hidden  bond.  For  the  irregular  doings  of 
the  strait-laced  people  and  the  comparatively  regular  doings 
of  the  gypsies  show  me  how  Bohemian  the  Bourgeois  is,  and 
how  Bourgeois  the  Bohemian." 

"What  Robert  says  reminds  me  forcibly  of  a  passage  in 
Gulliver's  Travels,"  interposed  Mark  Pryor.  "I  mean  the 
passage  in  which  the  horses,  the  noble  highborn  creatures 
that  govern,  move  about  stark  naked,  whilst  the  Yahoos, 
the  loathsome  human  creatures  that  live  like  beasts,  yearn 
to  cover  their  shame  with  rags  and  strings  of  beads." 

"For  the  matter  of  that,"  continued  Robert,  "look  at  our 
little  group  here.  We've  all  lived  and  worked  quite  con- 
tentedly in  the  thick  of  Kips  Bay.  Yet  there's  nothing  in 
our  daily  behavior  at  which  a  Philistine  of  the  deepest  dye 
would  turn  a  hair.  Where,  in  fact,  could  one  find  a  more 
incurably  respectable  lot  of  people — always  counting  out 
Lydia  who,  I  believe,  is  still  a  member  in  good  standing 
among  the  Outlaws?" 

"Look  here,  old  boy!"  Lydia  called  out.  "Are  you  attack- 
ing or  defending  me?" 

"As  the  supreme  ornament  of  Charlotte's  studio,  you  can 
always  count  on  my  homage,  Lydia.  But  as  an  Outlaw, 
you  must  expect  no  quarter.  I've  lived  among  the  Outlaws 
and  weighed  them  in  the  balance." 

"Meaning  what?"  said  Lydia,  groaning  for  effect.  "That 
their  honor  rooted  in  dishonor  stands?" 

"Not  a  bad  way  of  putting  it,  Lydia,"  replied  Robert, 
smiling.  "Shall  I  give  you  the  gist  of  Outlawry?  Well, 
it  is  an  excrescence  of  Radicalism,  often  a  decorative, 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  481 

sometimes  a  merely  indecorous  excrescence.  The  purpose  of 
Radicalism  is  to  remove  the  obstacles  that  lie  athwart  the 
course  of  life,  of  life  aspiring  to  an  estate  infinitely 
higher  than  that  of  man.  What  part  in  this  mighty  pur- 
pose is  played  by  the  mummers  of  Greenwich  Village/  the 
camp-stool  triflers  of  Washington  Square,  the  picarescos  of 
Kips  Bay,  and  the  other  Outlaw  aggregations?" 

"They  stand  for  insurgency,  don't  they?"  drawled  Lydia. 

"For  insurgency,  yes.  But  what  sort  of  insurgency?  Your 
typical  Outlaw  'insurges'  against  perfectly  harmless  laws 
and  conventions:  obstacles  of  no  importance.  And  at  the 
very  same  time,  he  conforms  to  ruthlessly  strangling  laws 
and  conventions:  obstacles  that  really  matter." 

"Kips  Bay  or  bust!"  announced  Lydia,  reluctantly  aban- 
doning her  tiger  skin  as  the  only  alternative  to  a  pursuit  of 
Robert's  theme. 

VI 

On  the  walk  uptown,  Lydia  attached  herself  to  Pryor  and 
Charlotte,  while  Robert  with  Janet  soon  fell  far  behind. 

What  a  first  aid  to  free  speech  an  independent  income  is! 
Dozens  of  questions  which,  in  Paris,  had  stuck  on  the  tip 
of  Robert's  tongue  now  rolled  off  as  freely  as  down  a 
buttered  slide.  He  was  the  first  to  break  boldly  into  the 
vicious  circle  of  topics  of  the  day. 

"You'd  better  return  my  pearls  and  diamonds!"  he  began 
with  a  grave  smile.  "As  for  me,  I'll  send  back  all  your 
letters  and  also  the  lock  of  your  hair  that  I've  worn  next 
my  heart." 

He  said  that  there  was  only  one  conclusion  to  be  drawn 
from  the  unbroken  silence  she  had  maintained  ever  since 


482  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

the  end  of  the  partnership  of  Barr  and  Lloyd;    an  end,  he 
reminded  her,  not  of  his  making. 

Well,  she  liked  that!  She  had  written  long  letters, 
addressed  to  Cornelia,  but  expressly  intended  for  the  whole 
Lorillard  circle;  and,  seeing  that  several  people  had  re- 
plied, it  would  seem  that  her  intention  had  been  respected. 
In  these  letters  she  had  more  than  once  fished  for  a  crumb 
of  sympathy  from  him.  She  might  say  that,  on  reaching 
the  very  bottom  of  the  ladder  of  luck,  she  had  signalled  to 
him  almost  as  abjectly  as  Dives  had  to  Lazarus.  But  no 
Lazarus  had  responded. 

This  reproach  led,  on  both  sides,  to  a  rapid  fire  of  ques- 
tions and  answers  in  the  course  of  which  one  of  their  chief 
misunderstandings  was  cleared  up.  Janet  learned  that 
Cornelia  had  never  shown  her  letters  to  Robert.  What  she 
had  done  was  to  give  him  subtly  to  understand  that  Janet, 
in  the  hope  of  inducing  Claude  to  legitimate  their  love 
affair,  was  prudently  burning  her  Kips  Bay  connections 
behind  her. 

"It  was  only  one  of  a  score  of  things  that  Cornelia  did  to 
queer  the  pitch  between  us,"  was  Robert's  comment. 

They  were  silent  for  a  space,  whilst  they  adjusted  their 
thoughts  to  a  much  clearer  interpretation  of  the  curious  way 
that  Cornelia  had  acted  out  her  part  in  the  triangle  of  their 
relations. 

Robert's  mind  reverted  to  a  bit  of  news  which  Pryor  had 
passed  on  to  him  the  night  before,  after  the  arrival  of  the 
San  Francisco  Limited  at  the  Pennsylvania  Station.  Pryor 
had  picked  up  the  information  in  the  course  of  an  interview 
with  Hutchins  Burley  in  the  Tombs,  where  the  fallen  editor, 
garbed  as  a  Federal  convict  (he  had  begun  to  serve  his 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  483 

sentence  for  smuggling),  was  being  detained  to  testify 
against  a  former  confederate  in  the  Japanese  espionage  case. 
Burley,  raging  like  the  bull  of  Bashan,  had  lashed  out 
against  all  the  people  who  had  ever  given  him  offence,  and 
against  some  who  hadn't.  As  a  by-product  of  sheer,  over- 
flowing hatred,  he  had  let  slip  the  item  that  it  was  to  Cor- 
nelia that  he  was  really  indebted  for  having  been  able  to 
get  on  Janet's  track  in  Brussels.  Cornelia  had  not  known 
Janet's  precise  whereabouts,  yet  she  had  shown  Burley  the 
letters,  the  very  letters  she  had  withheld  from  Robert! 

This  was  a  piquant  bit  of  gossip,  but  Robert  decided  to 
suppress  it  for  the  time  being.  Until  he  had  finished  with 
the  delicate  job  he  had  in  hand! 

Crossing  Astor  Place,  they  proceeded  along  Bookworm 
Lane  to  Union  Square.  Janet  stopped  halfway  and  pointed 
out  a  quaint  old  shop  where  she  had  bought  at  secondhand 
many  of  the  text-books  used  in  her  Evening  Law  School. 

"You  are  on  the  primrose  path  of  dalliance!"  exclaimed 
Robert,  who  heard  of  these  studies  for  the  first  time.  "Do 
you  keep  your  mother  posted  regarding  your  wicked  ways 
or  has  she  closed  the  front  door  to  you  forever,  as  she 
threatened?" 

"No,  the  front  door  has  been  left  on  a  crack,"  said  Janet. 

And  she  recounted  a  visit  she  had  lately  paid  her  home. 
The  family  atmosphere  was  exactly  as  she  had  left  it,  the 
only  change  being  that  her  father,  having  retired  from 
business  as  the  result  of  a  serious  accident,  had  ceased  to 
be  even  the  titular  head  of  the  house. 

"The  poor  old  man,  a  mere  ghost  of  his  former  hand- 
some self,  was  in  a  state  of  coma,  Robert.  And  I  fear  that, 
as  his  salary  days  are  over,  his  approaching  dissolution  is 


484  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

being  firmly  and  not  too  gently  accelerated.  He  sat  huddled 
up  in  an  invalid's  chair,  from  time  to  time  mumbling  that 
he  hoped  I'd  be  a  sensible  girl,  and  stay  with  them  in 
Brooklyn  now,  and  learn  to  appreciate  my  mother  for  the 
brave  and  unselfish  woman  she  has  always  been!  He'll  lick 
the  whip  to  the  very  last  breath.  The  sight  of  him  was 
heartrending!" 

Otherwise,  the  atmosphere  of  the  Barr  household  had  not 
changed  one  whit.  The  same  musty,  fusty  ideas  prevailed, 
and  the  same  hollow,  stagnant,  make-believe  existence  went 
on.  Here,  at  least,  was  one  spot  in  America  where  pre-war 
conditions  prevailed  unchallenged! 

"How  could  I  ever  have  stood  it  as  long  as  I  did!  Mother 
pecked  at  my  cheek  and,  without  turning  a  hair,  asked  me 
was  I  coming  home  at  last  (to  be  a  young  lady  of  the  house, 
I  suppose! )  or  did  I  mean  to  go  on  wasting  the  Lord's  time? 
Wasting  the  Lord's  time!  I  replied  that  if  she  was  alluding 
to  my  work  and  to  my  legal  studies — which  together  occu- 
pied me  from  ten  to  sixteen  hours  a  day — wasting  the 
Lord's  time  wasn't  the  picnic  it  sounded  like.  She  muttered 
something  about  the  wages  of  sin  being  death!  'Oh,  no,'  I 
said,  'I  get  a  very  fat  salary  from  Mrs.  R.  H.  L.  Jerome.' 
I  mentioned  the  exact  figure — the  amount  quite  made 
Emily  sit  up! — and  I  added  that  Mrs.  Jerome,  my  friend 
as  well  as  my  employer,  had  undertaken  to  advance  my 
career. 

"Well,  it  seemed  to  me  that  this  piece  of  news  stumped 
mother  a  bit,  although  she  closed  her  eyes  in  that  trance- 
like,  oblivious  way  of  hers  and  affected  never  to  have  heard 
of  a  Mrs.  Jerome.  Perhaps  she  really  hadn't.  Nobody  has 
ever  fathomed  the  bottomless  ignorance  of  the  Barr  mind." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  485 

"Nobody  could—not  even  God!"  said  Robert. 

Janet  nodded  and  went  on: 

"Don't  forget  that  the  Barrs  are  inordinately  vain  and 
aggressively  jealous  of  the  things  they  don't  know.  This  is 
the  fact  that  makes  their  ignorance  sublime!  Take  Emily. 
I  got  her  to  talk  about  herself  for  a  while.  She  is  now  one 
of  the  head  teachers  in  a  public  high  school.  Her  devotion 
to  her  business  is  pathetic.  She  teaches,  eats,  sleeps  —  and 
teaches!  Once  in  a  while  she  shops  or  sews.  These  acts 
complete  the  cycle  of  her  life  from  day  to  day,  from  year 
to  year.  No  books,  no  concerts,  no  theatres,  no  travel,  no 
meditation,  no  self-training,  no  real  companionship  with 
equals  or  superiors — never  one  piercing  or  shattering  experi- 
ence of  novelty — nothing  that  might  make  the  pulse  go  fast 
or  the  heart  beat  high.  'But  how  can  you  teach  them  any- 
thing real,  anything  about  life?'  I  maliciously  asked  her." 

"'Anything  real!'  she  sneered.  'I  suppose  you  mean 
romantic  adventures!  Well,  teaching  is  real  enough  for 
me.  I  study  the  science  of  pedagogy  every  night  of  the 
week.  And  when  I  want  to  learn  anything  more  about  life, 
I  read  the  Saturday  Evening  Post/' 

"Yes,  Robert;  it  sounds  like  a  line  from  The  Old  Home- 
stead, But  that's  exactly  what  she  said." 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  Robert.  "I  know  the  Barrs  of 
Brooklyn.  I've  met  them  in  every  part  of  the  United 
States,  and  one  runs  across  them  even  in  Europe.  Age  can- 
not wither  nor  custom  stale  their  infinite  monotony.  As 
on  creation's  day,  so  they'll  remain  till  the  trump  of  doom." 

"Of  course,  Mother  isn't  as  stupid  as  Emily,  not  by 
half,"  said  Janet.  "Her  behavior  at  parting  convinces  me 
that  she  really  does  have  an  inkling  of  who  Mrs.  Jerome  is 


486  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

and  of  how  my  position  near  this  influential  lady  sends  my 
stock  up  in  the  world  of  cash  realities.  When  I  left,  she 
didn't  peck  at  my  cheek  as  at  first.  No,  she  kissed  me 
almost  affectionately  and  said,  in  a  tone  so  relenting  that 
I'm  sure  Emily  was  greatly  shocked:  'Now  that  you've 
found  the  way  back,  my  child,  come  and  see  us  again  soon.' 
And  I  had  always  believed  that  Mother's  moral  and  reli- 
gious prejudices  were  incorruptible — absolutely  money- 
proof,  if  nothing  else  in  this  age  was!  It  was  quite  a  blow 
to  me." 

"Never  mind,"  rejoined  Robert.  "We're  all  easily  taken 
in  by  other  people's  moral  counterfeit.  Haven't  you 
observed  that  it's  usually  a  Barr  who  circulates  the  Biblical 
saying  that  a  man  cannot  serve  both  God  and  Mammon? 
Yet,  though  too  modest  to  acknowledge  it,  the  Barrs  them- 
selves accomplish  this  miracle  daily.  It's  precisely  the 
Barrs  who,  in  their  heart  of  hearts,  worship  these  two 
deities  as  one." 

They  had  now  reached  the  Lorillard  tenements.  In  the 
dimly  lit  foyer  of  the  middle  house  they  rested  on  the 
settee,  quite  as  in  the  chummiest  days  of  Barr  and  Lloyd. 

"Speaking  of  Mammon,"  he  resumed,  in  the  most  off- 
hand way  imaginable,  "don't  you  think  you  ought  to  marry 
a  rich  man?  Of  course  I  mean  your  own  sort  of  rich  man, 
not  the  St.  Hilaire  sort." 

Janet  gave  him  a  puzzled  look. 

"I  should  hate  a  welter  of  trivial  responsibilities,"  she 
said  decisively.  "A  great  big  house  and  a  lot  of  servants 
to  manage — to  say  nothing  of  a  husband! — the  mere 
prospect  terrifies  me." 

"Now  I'm  doubly  sure  that  we're  birds  of  a  feather, 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  487 

Janet!  Still,  aren't  you  rather  difficult  to  please?  In 
Paris  you  said  you  wouldn't  marry  a  man  if  he  was  poor? 
Here  you  say  you  won't  marry  a  man  if  he's  rich." 

"Does  it  matter,  Robert?  What  rich  man  is  likely  to 
ask  me?" 

"You're  quite  wrong.    One  is  asking  you  now." 

"You!"    Had  he  suddenly  lost  his  senses? 

"I've  inherited  a  couple  of  millions,  Janet!" 

He  briefly  put  her  in  possession  of  the  facts.  Then  he 
made  her  a  formal  offer  of  marriage,  in  tones  so  restrained 
that  she  could  hardly  guess  the  immortal  longing  beneath 
them. 

"I  need  a  partner  to  share  the  rich  man's  burden!"  he 
said,  with  a  quizzical  smile.  "And  I  know  from  experience 
that  you  are  the  one  partner  in  the  world  for  me." 

"No!"  she  said,  her  eyes  half  closed,  her  cheeks  rather 
pale.  "I — I'm  not  sure  that  I'm  ready  for  marriage." 

"Oh,  don't  let  that  stop  you!  Nobody  is  ever  ready 
for  birth,  marriage,  or  death.  We're  just  plunged  in — 
doubts,  hesitations,  and  all.  You  don't  suppose  any  sane 
man  or  woman  wants  to  take  the  plunge,  do  you?  I  know 
7  don't.  But  since  I've  got  to  marry  somebody,  I've  made 
up  my  mind  to  marry  no  one  but  you." 

"At  least  you're  quite  frank,"  she  said,  with  a  rather 
trembling  lip. 

"Are  you  angry?  Heaven  knows  it  would  be  easier  for 
me  to  use  the  stock  phrases  on  which  we  were  brought  up 
and  fed  up.  But  you're  a  woman  of  the  new  age!  And 
I'm  proposing  partnership  to  an  equal,  to  a  fellow  worker — 
not  to  a  goddess-drudge!" 

They  both  rose  from  the  settee. 


488  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Surely,"  he  said,  wondering  at  her  silence,  "it  isn't  the 
Free  Love  philosophy  that's  in  the  way?" 

"No,  no!"  she  said,  emphatically.  "I  thought  I'd  told 
you  that  in  Paris." 

She  repeated  that  she  was  done  with  all  that!  She  ad- 
mitted that,  for  a  time,  Cornelia  had  won  her  over  to  what 
Bernard  Shaw  called  the  Love-Is-All  school  of  fanatics. 
And,  so  she  feared,  she  had  actually  believed  in  her  own 
readiness  to  give  up  All  for  Love  I  But  the  hard  knocks 
of  the  last  two  years  had  opened  her  eyes  to  the  inadequacy 
as  well  as  to  the  inexpediency  of  this  philosophy.  When 
the  Hutchins  Burleys,  the  Cornelia  Coverts,  the  women 
with  horn-rimmed  spectacles,  and  their  like — when  these 
successively  popped  up  to  interfere  with  her  purposes,  she 
had  realized  that  love,  far  from  being  all  to  her,  was  simply 
one  of  her  heart's  desires.  She  still  held  to  the  view  that 
the  love  relation  between  two  people  should  be  subject  to 
no  other  law  than  that  of  their  own  consciences.  And  she 
still  hoped  that  society  would  be  converted  to  this  view, 
although  she  no  longer  had  a  mind  to  risk  her  soul's  wel- 
fare in  its  behalf. 

"You  see,  Robert,  how  fully  I've  come  round  to  your 
opinion!  If  I'm  to  risk  my  salvation  for  anything,  it  must 
be  for  something  bigger  than  the  love  chase." 

After  a  pause,  she  added,  with  a  faintly  ironical  smile: 

"For  something  bigger,  too,  than  a  mere  husband,  don't 
you  think?" 

"But  you  won't  risk  your  salvation  with  me,  Janet," 
said  Robert,  coming  close  to  her  side.  "You're  in  a  posi- 
tion to  make  your  own  terms,  absolutely — for  have  you  I 
must!  Stick  to  your  practical  terms  but  not  to  your  ab- 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  489 

stract  ideas.  And  be  generous  1  Remember,  a  man  who's 
obliged  to  take  care  of  a  fortune,  needs  a  wife  to  take  care 
of  him." 

"Indeed!  But  why  expect  one  able-bodied  human  being 
to  'take  care  of  another  human  being,  equally  able- 
bodied?  Or  why  ask  a  woman  to  become  what  men  gal- 
lantly call  a  ministering  angel,  but  what  ought  bluntly  to 
be  called  a  domestic  drudge?" 

"I  admit  it's  a  very  stupid  arrangement.  Yet  at  present 
it's  the  only  tolerable  arrangement  I  know  of.  Unquestion- 
ably, it's  haphazard,  wasteful,  anarchic!  And  no  doubt 
a  later  generation  of  men  and  women,  fired  with  a  collec- 
tive purpose,  will  regulate  domestic  affairs  much  better. 
But  what  am  I  to  do?  Wasn't  I  born  and  bred  on  the 
understanding  that  some  ministering  angel  would  drudge 
my  home  to  rights?  Well,  I'm  extremely  uncomfortable 
without  one!" 

"Selfish  wretch.    Do  you  know  what  Mrs.  Jerome  says?" 

"No." 

"She  says  that  women  have  been  men's  cat's-paws  long 
enough.  It's  time  for  them  to  abdicate  the  job.  If  we  are 
to  make  any  headway,  the  unmarried  girls  will  have  to  be 
strong  enough  and  self-respecting  enough  to  refuse  the 
empty  honors  offered  as  bribes  for  their  servitude.  They 
must  put  a  high  price  on  their  freedom!" 

"Good!  I  offer  you  a  million  dollars,  cash  down,  for 
yours.  It's  half  my  fortune." 

Janet  turned  away,  chilled  to  the  soul. 

"You're  mocking  me,"  she  said. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  retorted,  following  her.  "I  don't 
propose  to  live  with  an  economic  inferior.  Such  a  course 


490  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

would  wreck  us  at  the  start.  That  there  can  be  no  genuine 
comradeship  between  people  of  unequal  means  is  a  truth 
which  every  philosopher  from  Plato  to  William  James  has 
pointed  out." 

"Did  they  point  it  out,  hi  the  midst  of  a  proposal?" 

He  held  both  her  hands  in  a  firm  grip. 

"Darling,  don't  pretend  to  misunderstand  me.  Do  you 
want  me  to  sink  to  my  knees  in  this  public  place  and  over- 
whelm you  with  ardors  and  protestations?  It's  easy 
enough,  and  I'm  quite  mad  enough  now.  Mad  with  the 
enchantment  of  your  touch,  that  turns  my  heart  to  fire; 
with  the  music  of  your  voice,  in  which  I  hear  all  Elfland 
calling;  with  your  haunting  mystery  and  lilac  fragrance, 
at  which  my  senses  reel  and  swim!  I'm  ninety-nine  parts 
drenched  with  ecstasy!  If  you  reproach  me  because  one 
thin  gleam  of  sanity  still  remains  at  the  helm  I  shall  be  — " 

"Arithmetical!" 

At  the  word,  he  seized  her  and  kissed  her  and  —  Time 
being  Love's  fool  —  they  were  imparadised  in  each  other's 
arms. 

vn 

After  a  while,  between  endearments,  she  managed  to  say: 

"So  you  do  want  me  to  make  a  marriage  of  conven- 
ience?" 

"No,  I  want  you  to  make  a  convenience  of  marriage. 
That's  what  all  sensible  people  do." 

"Splendid!  Then  you  won't  expect  me  to  give  up  the 
Susan  B.  Anthony  House?  I  couldn't  leave  Mrs.  Jerome 
in  the  lurch  now,  you  know." 

"Of  course  not!"  he  said. 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  491 

She  was  to  go  on  with  her  work,  he  with  his.  They 
should  have  living  places  to  be  alone  in,  and  living  places 
to  be  together  in,  like  the  Havelock  Ellises.  They'd  have 
a  house  together  in  the  mountains  or  the  seashore,  remote 
from  other  people — a  biggish  house,  this  would  perhaps  have 
to  be.  But  she  need  manage  it  no  better  (or  no  worse,  he 
trusted)  than  she  now  managed  the  Susan  B.  Anthony 
House. 

Janet  laughed  at  his  incorrigible,  man-made  outlook  on 
the  future.  Indulgent  and  happy,  she  rested  her  head  on 
his  shoulder. 

"Why  didn't  you  take  your  own  advice,"  she  asked, 
"and  marry  some  independently  rich  woman — Charlotte,  for 
instance?" 

"Because  there  are  a  good  many  women  that  I  could 
work  with,  yet  never  love.  And  some  few  that  I  could 
love,  yet  never  work  with.  But  there's  only  one  that  I 
could  work  with  and  love  as  well.  At  least,  I've  never  met 
another." 

"That's  a  very  pretty  speech,  Robert,  for  you.  We  were 
good  comrades,  weren't  we?  In  the  days  of  Barr  and 
Lloyd!" 

"From  now  on,  Barr  and  Lloyd,  Inc." 

"But  it  isn't  the  same  Barr  nor  the  same  Lloyd  that  are 
to  be  incorporated  again.  Suppose  we  prove  not  to  be 
good  comrades,  this  time?" 

"In  that  case,  we  shall  hie  us  to  some  genuinely  civilized 
country — Sweden  or  Cape  Comorin — where  breach  of  com- 
radeship is  the  sole  ground  for  divorce — " 

Indignant  voices  from  the  staircase  penetrated  their 
mutual  absorption- 


492  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

"Where  in  the  world  can  they  be!" 

"So  this  is  your  radical  hospitality!" 

"Robert  —  latest  method? — proposing  by  telepathy  — 
imperfect  communications  —  vast  silences  —  heavenly  har- 
mony — " 

"Pooh!  Janet's  no  fool  —  nothing  like  a  bee  line  — 
marriage  license  bureau  —  bird  in  the  bush,  you  know — " 

Blushing  and  looking  like  culprits,  they  climbed  the 
stairs  and  braved  the  mock  indignation  meeting  which  their 
three  friends  were  holding  in  the  hall  between  flats  13  and 
15.  (Robert  had  rented  both  flats,  as  a  surprise  for  Janet.) 

Lydia  went  straight  to  Janet  and  enfolded  her  in  a  copi- 
ous embrace,  whilst  Charlotte  stood  by,  ready  for  a  cordial 
handshake.  Mark  Pryor,  stupefied  at  this  exhibition  of 
feminine  perspicacity,  could  only  stare  at  Robert  and 
mutter: 

"What!     Already?" 

"Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  won!"  drawled  Lydia, 
as  she  led  the  way  into  Number  Thirteen,  Kelly's  old  flat. 
"I  must  say,  Janet,  I'm  not  much  impressed  with  Robert's 
1921  revision  of  the  Lord  of  Burleigh  stunt.  Like  all 
modern  versions  of  fine  old  idylls,  it's  gingerbread  without 
the  ginger.  Give  me  the  village  painter  who  leads  his 
sweetheart  to  a  palace!  There's  the  thrill  that  comes  but 
once  in  a  lifetime.  But  fancy  a  millionaire  taking  his  bride 
to  a  Kips  Bay  model  tenement — and  Number  Thirteen  at 
that!" 

"You  forget,"  said  Robert,  who,  with  Pryor,  had  followed 
the  ladies  in.  "You  forget  that  'leiser  Nachhall  Idngst 
verklungner  Lieder,  zieht  mit  Erinnerungs-Schauer  durch 
die  Brust." 


THE  LOVE  CHASE  493 

"Which  means,  I  take  it,"  Pryor  said: 

"  'I  saw  her  then,  as  I  see  her  yet, 
With  the  rose  she  wore,  when  first  we  met.' " 

"Pooh!  Male  parsimony  disguised  as  Teuton  sentiment," 
said  Lydia.  "Don't  be  put  upon,  Janet,  by  this  love-in-a- 
tenement  stuff.  Let  me  give  you  a  tip.  Laurence  Twicken- 
ham, my  publisher,  has  just  put  his  Long  Island  home  on 
the  market.  He  says  that  the  ruinous  royalties  he's  com- 
pelled to  pay  me  do  not  permit  him  to  keep  up  an  expensive 
establishment.  It's  a  perfectly  gorgeous  estate,  right  next 
to  mine,  and  not  too  far  from  New  York.  Do  make  Robert 
buy  it  and  settle  down  to  a  useful  life  as  a  country  gentle- 
man." 

"What!  Foster  ttfs  mania  for  hearth  and  home?"  cried 
Janet,  laughing.  "Catch  me!  Nowadays  men  are  almost 
incurably  domestic,  as  it  is." 

"Well,  what  are  you  children  going  to  do?" 

"Children!"  said  Robert,  coming  forward,  and  lecturing 
Lydia  with  gusto.  "None  of  your  wiseacre  airs,  Lydia.  Our 
program  will  show  you  that  we  know  our  own  minds.  Hear 
ye!  We  shall  be  married  as  soon  as  Janet  can  get  a  day 
off.  After  the  ceremony  Janet  will  return  to  her  job  of 
running  the  Susan  B.  Anthony  House;  I  shall  return  to 
my  job  of  trying  to  make  America  safe  for  those  who  don't 
happen  to  be  grafters,  parasites,  or  profiteers.  During  the 
better  part  of  the  year,  our  offices  will  be  in  the  Kips  Bay 
tenements  here,  Numbers  Thirteen  and  Fifteen,  respectively 
—  we  shall  toss  up  to  see  who  gets  which.  No  attempt  on 
the  part  of  either  to  impose  his  or  her  friends,  diet,  hygiene, 
or  recreations  upon  the  other  without  consent,  will  be  toler- 


494  THE  LOVE  CHASE 

ated  for  a  moment.  Each  is  to  be  absolute  master  in  what 
may  jointly  be  agreed  upon  to  be  his  own  domain,  provided 
only  that  Janet  is  to  darn  all  my  socks  or  buy  new  pairs  as 
fast  as  the  big  toe  protrudes.  At  the  end  of  nine  months, 
we  shall  both  be  ready  for  a  trip  to — " 

"To  Sweden,"  Janet  put  in  softly,  going  to  his  side  and 
caressing  his  arm. 

"To  Sweden  I"  exclaimed  Lydia,  while  Charlotte  and 
Pryor  laughed  at  her  bewilderment.  "To  the  psychopathic 
ward,  if  you  ask  me!" 


A     000126863     0 


